In Search of Truth
by liZZardfem87
Summary: What if there was more to Hermione and her background than she could ever have imagined? Does fate always have the final say? (Takes place during seventh year, but based on 5th book and prior.) *Please note that at least half of this fic is under HEAVY revision and being rewritten...Chapters 1-3 out by May 6, 2013, 4-10 by May 20*
1. Adjusting

**Disclaimer**: only the plot is mine...or else I'm missing out majorly somewhere...

**A/N**: WARNING:The first ten chapters, as I have painfully come to realize, are in SORE need of SEVERE editing...they move too fast, the grammar's dicy...and worst of all, tom riddle is a bit too out of character for most of it...he's like a female on an estrogen rush. ANYHOW... from ch.11 till the end, it gets drastically better. So, if you can manage it, please try to work through the draggy and awkward ten chapters (the ideas are okay, it's the execution)...after all, it's been two years since i saw the material. anyhoo, i am PROMISING an edit of these horrible chappies... in the next month or two, i should be finished. basically it's a matter of filling in all the gaps because the story is SO jumpy and incoherent at times .

Anyhoo, enjoy as you wish... please review, though.

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

"_There, it's finally done_." Hermione sighed, finally having finished her packing. Here it was, the day she would be leaving out on the train, and she'd procrastinated with getting everything together. It would be her seventh, and final, year at Hogwarts. 

She'd been attempting to pack for the past two weeks, but simply found herself too busy, what with all those large textbooks to get a head start on. Harry and Ron had visited often enough, but Ron's sending her an owl everyday was grating on Hermione's patience.

Ron's hopeless, schoolboy crush had blossomed into something a bit more…substantial, but Hermione just couldn't bring herself to approach him about it. After all, wouldn't he just turn beet red and avoid her for months? Besides, Hermione knew she simply didn't feel that way about him. It wasn't him specifically, of course, just some feeling she had, as though she already loved someone else in the innermost core of her heart.

"_Oh, stop being silly, Hermione_." she scolded herself silently. She rushed to her satchel, checking once more to see if she'd gotten all of her books.

"**Hermione Granger**!" Hermione's mom yelled for her from the bottom of the stairs. "If you don't hurry your little self along, you'll miss the train!"

A mop of chestnut curls bolted to the stairs, praying she had her wand in her satchel. She knew her cauldron, broom, and her wardrobe had been sent ahead. "_And thank goodness for **that**_." Hermione thought, as she reached the car, out of breath, and jumped in. She was fully prepared to fly to the station in order to get there in time, and she nearly did.

* * *

Once at the familiar station, Hermione slipped onto platform 9¾ in the nick of time. Wasting no thoughts on precisely which car she should begin searching for her friends in, Hermione leapt on boardone towards the middle of the line. Having boarded, though, she noticed quickly that all of the compartments were full. She was going to have to walk the entire corridor if she wanted to find an empty seat, much less Harry or Ron. 

"_Oh, just bloody brilliant_." she scoffed. She began the arduous journey of finding a seat. It seemed as though there were miles of filled compartments, and Hermione was beginning to feel defeated.

She decided to pause for a moment, leaning against a corridor window. Hermione closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, followed by a weighty sigh. She heard footsteps coming her direction, but didn't bother opening her eyes. "_I'm not taking up the entire aisle. They can get by me if they need to, and I don't really feel like acknowledging people_."

But the person stopped in front of her nonetheless. "Why, if it isn't _Granger_."

Hermione's entire body tensed at his voice as it hit her: sly, biting and overtly sarcastic. "_And here I was thinking this day couldn't get any worse_." she mused. She turned towards the blond fiend, more than willing to face him down.

"Why, if it isn't the moronic _ferret_." Hermione was impressed with how successfully sarcastic her tone was with the git. Although she wasn't much of one for altercations, she had to admit she enjoyed witty ones well enough. Especially when they involved Draco Malfoy and his goons, the "_dream team of witless wonders_."

Disappointingly, the platinum haired rodent was alone today. Taking in the lone image before her, Hermione noticed quickly that Draco seemed to have gotten even taller since last she'd seen him. Being only about 5'6", she felt like a dwarf before him, as he must have been around 6'3".

She peered into his face, taking in the sharp, steely eyes. Eerily enough, he was smiling at her, almost too pleasantly for comfort. "You seem quite different, Granger. Did you _finally_ learn the arts of grooming?".

"_Right back to the sardonic demeanor_." Hermione was relieved.

"Indeed, Malfoy. Perhaps I should introduce you to them, what with your **perpetually** greasy condition."

Draco's face scrunched for a moment, but almost immediately flashed back into a smile. If he weren't such a loathsome, vile being, Hermione would have sworn that the blond dung beetle was trying to flirt with her. "_You're losing it, Mione. Note to self, steer clear of the books every now and then_."

Her opponent, in half a stride,was suddenly within a mere inch or so of her body. Draco leaned in, letting his mouth come dangerously close to kissing her right ear. Hermione grimaced, her stomach performing _at least_ two sommersaults and one backflip, before settling into a solid knot.

"You know, Granger, if you'd shut that cute mouth of yours, you'd almost be attractive." With that, Draco pecked her on the cheek and slipped off, having shocked most of the life out of Hermione.

"What's gotten into _**him**_?" she murmured, shuddering from the whole affair. Deciding _some_one must have hexed him somehow, she continued onward. Luckily,Hermione finally found an empty cubicle. "_**Now** I should be safe from any random passersby. Especially ones who've lost their minds and presently have some sort of Muggle fetish_."

Having settled herself on one of the bench seats, she took out one of her new books: Advanced History of the Dark Arts. Although she'd never admit it to anyone else, the dark arts, as well as those who practiced them, fascinated Hermione. She thought, at one time, that her interest was purely for her own protection. But, very recently, she'd found herself devouring any books she could find on the subject.

As she came across a page specifically about the Slytherin bloodline, a loud rapping came on the door of the compartment. Before Hermione could lift her eyes fully from the text, much less jump up to answer, the door slid open noisily, revealing a lanky redhead, smiling in anticipation.

Hermione tossed her book back in the satchel quickly. "**Hermione**!" Ron yelled merrily, as he grabbed her into a deep embrace, almost dancingly.

"Hello, Ron. Harry? Is that you?" Harry walked in casually, laughing at the muffled words Hermione had tried to make as Ron held her too tightly.

"**Ron**! She can't _**breathe**_!" he barely managed through his laughter.

Ron, flustered a great deal, jumped back. His nervous smile made it even worse. "Sorry 'bout that, 'Mione."

Hermione laughed, quite amused. "Oh, it's alright, Ron. I'll survive, I'mcertain. So, how have you two been?" Harry looked at her carefully. The young woman before him was normally quite chatty: today she was rather quiet, withdrawn.

"I've been fine, I suppose. The Dursleys are so bloody happy that I'm gone. It's pathetic. But how are you, Hermione? Last time we talked, you were having some trouble with night visions? Are they still preventing you from sleeping?"

Hermione cringed: she'd forgotten her confessions to Harry from the summer. Of course, his genuine concern for her was appreciated, but Hermione stilldidn't want to discuss the way her nightmares haunted her, both in sleep and while awake. It had actually gotten quite worse, and her head often ached from all the odd visions.

Forcing a reassuring smile, Hermione shook her head. "No, Harry. And they were only silly nightmares, not visions."

Harry looked at her with doubt covering his face. "I don't know. Weren't they always the same thing? Like a prediction of the future?"

Hermione shook her head again, almost too quickly to be convincing. "No, no. They changed, and the dreams resolved themselves." Hermione lied through her smile. Harry wasn't buying it, but he seemed willing to drop it for the time being. He and Ron went into a discussion about Quidditch, and how well Oliver Wood's career was turning out, etc. Hermione sat silently gazing out of her window, trying to think of anything pleasant to hide the constant shadow within her mind.

* * *

"Mione? Hermione? Wake up; we're here." 

Harry's gentle, prodding voice woke her slowly. She took Ron's ready hand, and rose up. She was still trembling from her dream: this one had been as dark as any of the others. Ron noticed immediately.

"Do you need me to carry you in, Mione?" Hermione sighed.

"_Great_," she thought, "_Like I **needed** to give Ron an excuse to babysit me any further_." Hermione forced her body to cease its shaking.

"No, Ron. I'm quite alright walking, but thanks." She knew he wasn'tquite believing her, but shewas also certain he wouldn't force the issue. Having stepped off the train, Hermione noticed Hagrid, recruiting the first years to the boats. She smiled slightly, remembering how nervous she had been. She almost wished she were going over on the boats: something about them was so much more relaxing than the carriages.

The great hall was beautiful, as always, and the excitement of returning to school was abundant throughout. Hermione, though, was really quite tired, andslipped out quietly as soon as the actual feast had begun. She wasn't hungry, and her thoughts were elsewhere.

"_It's all that reading, I'm sure. Too much academic insanity, not enough sleep_." she assured herself. She started out for the Gryffindor tower, but found her feet had a mind of their own. She began to wander other corridors, some of which she was quite positive she'd never been down before. It was about an hour, she guessed, before she realized that she was sort of lost. "_Good going, genius_."

She kept walking, trying to get down the right staircase, the right hall..._anything_ to get her back into a familiar setting. Eventually, after two staircases and one long, dark tunnel of a hallway, Hermione found herself nearing the dungeons. At least _now_ she could probably find her way to the Gryffindor common room. As she started for yet another staircase, this time one she recognized easily, she felt another wave of sleepiness hit her.

"_Honestly, if I don't get to my bed soon_…". Hermione never finished her thought. As she was rounding the corner, looking downward the entire time, she fell into some figure rushing from the other direction.

Hermione was knocked forcefully to the floor, pulling the other person down with her. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was-". She stopped mid-sentence.

The smile on the _oh_-too-familiar face looking into hers was enough to cease her speech for the rest of her life.

"Somehow, Granger, I always **knew** you'd fall for me." Hermione cringed, refusing Draco's hand as he offered to help her up.

"Yes, I'm sure you've _always_ known it, Malfoy. Goodnight."

Gathering the spilled contents of her satchel, she started to walk past him, heading for her common room once more, this time with purpose. Draco stopped her, grabbing her arm with his hand. He spun her around to face him.

"Malfoy, what do you want n-". Hermione's question was cut off my Draco's lips on hers.

The shock held Hermione in place for a moment, but after what seemed like an _eternity_, she found use of her arms again. Shoving Draco away from her, she looked at him, praying it was a glare that she was sending.

Smoothing herunruly hair back into place, she started off again. "Oh, come _on_, Granger." Draco called after her. Hermione kept walking, but quickened her pace to exit the corridor.

"One day, Granger, you won't have to pull away from me." Draco muttered to himself, sadly, before moving to the great hall.

* * *

Hermione found her way to Gryffindor tower, but just couldn't bring herself to go in. Staying in one place would probably make her sleep. And, if she fell asleep, she'd dream. 

Oh, how real those dreams were becoming. She was always on some wet, icy, stone floor, shivering in the dark. There was someone there, and she'd felt him slip his arms around her, warmly, protectively. But, somewhere inside of her, she feared this stranger, almost like a familiar fear. In most of her dreams, she heard a snake, threateningly hissing somewhere nearby. And she never could stay in her dream long enough to make out the stranger's face. She would always wake up in a panicky fear, and it was wearing her out.

As Hermione reminisced over her visions, she found herself walking towards the first floor bathroom. "Oh, honestly." she sighed, finally losing patience with herself. "_What am I doing here_?"

"_Naturally, I **would** choose Myrtle's bathroom. Good job, Mione_.". Hermione laughed at herself. Glancing around nervously for any sign of Myrtle, she realized how quiet the restroom was. The sinks and pipes, almost always squeaking in some odd fashion, remained eerily still.

The young Gryffindor woman felt uneasy. She walked towards Myrtle's stall, hoping to hear the ghost sniffling.

"Hello? Myrtle?" The room remained silent. Hermioneknew she was beingridiculous. She decided to leave, hoping to put her overactive imagination to rest. With one last surveying glance, she started toward the exit. Bringing her eyes to the doorway in front of her, though, she had to stop dead in her tracks.

There was someone blocking her way out. It was a boy, and Hermione figured he couldn't be more than twenty. His short,somewhat shaggy hair was a deep coffee color, and it offset his flashing,black-green eyes.

Something in the way he carried himself, even perfectly still, made his mere presence seem commanding. Hermione couldn't really find anything jarring or creepy about him: the fact that he'd randomly appeared in front of her didn't win him any points, though.

Observing him more closely, she noticed he was smirking at her. She started to warily approach him. His eyes caught hers for a moment. Hermione took one step more, and the strange man suddenly faded from view. "_Was he a ghost_?"

Thoroughly convinced she'd lost her mind, Hermione started for the door, her goal to reach Gryffindor tower as fast as possible. Suddenly, a piece of wrinkled parchment fluttered down past her face, falling directly in front of her on the floor.

Suspicious, she knelt down to examine it. Picking it up, she felt how worn the paper actually was. Her eyebrows rose as she read the dark red ink:

_The truth reveals itself. Soon_

Hermione was puzzled beyond her realm of coherent thought. Then, without warning, the note she held wriggled, leapt from her hand,catching on fire midair,and fluttering to the ground in ashes.

Apparently, Hermione was the only one who would read _that_ message. Utterly perplexed, and thoroughly convinced that she'd tapped into a realm of _insanity_, Hermione decided she might be better able to think about it all in the morning. She made her way to Gryffindor tower, determined to find her bed quickly and go to sleep.

The only person in the common room was Ron, who begged her to tell him if something was wrong. "_Poor Ron_," she thought, feeling guilty.

Climbing up the stairs, Hermione realized she could tell no one about what happened, just as she really couldn't share her dreams. "They'll think I'm crazy, which I probably am.God, it's so lonely hiding everythingfrom everyone."

Hermione bid Lavender goodnight, as she was still awake when Hermione slipped quietly into the room, careful to wake no one else up. Relaxing into her bed, Hermione prepared to face another night of stressful visions, only this time she was already in the right frame of mind.


	2. Fusion and Confusion

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or anything nearly that good…. That honor is J.K. Rowling's…… (and if you still think it's mine, stop doing drugs… so there!)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ugh." Hermione groaned, slowly waking for her first school day. Her first class was Advanced Arithmancy; she rushed there quickly after breakfast. The classroom filled slowly, and Hermione was greeted by a few familiar faces. The class, however, proved to be quite dull, and a bit too easy for Hermione. Wishing to go to her only class that day with Ron and Harry, she found the day moved at a crawl. Seventh-year Transfigurations was decently interesting, but Hermione was in a class full of Ravenclaws, and she missed Ron and Harry a great deal. Happily, she found herself passing them on the way to their third period, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Mione! You haven't been in any of our classes today." Ron stated rather accusingly. "Thank-you, Ron Weasley, for stating the obvious. Care to give a weather report as well?" Harry smiled slightly, but Hermione noticed he seemed to be avoiding conversing with her. He was quite willing to talk to Ron, but he didn't appear all that relaxed with him either. "Something's up." Hermione decided she'd be able to speak to him later, when Ron wasn't around.

The Dark Arts classroom hadn't really changed. There were, however, heavy, midnight blue drapes on all of the windows, withholding any of the afternoon's light from the room. Hermione felt uncomfortable trying to find a seat in the dimmer surroundings. Harry and Ron found seats at one of the empty, two-seater desks in the back. "Great," thought Hermione, "Now I'm the odd man out." She started to pass another desk, when she felt a person's hand shoot out and grab her forearm, yanking her into the seat beside them. Turning to her face, she faced her assailant, and grimaced. "Good afternoon, Granger." Hermione, not appreciating Draco's prank, immediately rose to find another seat, but found Draco had yet to let go of her arm. "Oh, you wouldn't want to get up now, Granger. You'll lose your house some of its precious points for being tardy to your seat." Sure enough, the professor stepped in right as Draco finished his little speech. Hermione concentrated on giving him one of her worst glares, but was vexed to find Draco smiling triumphantly, his frosty, silver-grey eyes twinkling at her, almost laughing. Throughout the class, Draco poked Hermione's shoulder, dripped ink on her parchment, and kept his irritating smile floating in her direction, as though his face were petrified.

As the class ended, and everyone rose to leave, Hermione approached him. "Malfoy, I'm not going to be sitting with you all year. I'll speak with Professor Laurelie about it." Draco smirked, slowly moving past her. "Oh, will you now? He won't change the seats… he already said so, incase you weren't paying attention." He moved his head down to whisper in her ear. "Besides, I know you feel far happier sitting with your own kind." And with that confusing, somewhat snide remark, the former ferret was gone. Hermione wasn't seething with anger, although she wished she were. Instead, she was severely perplexed. "My own kind?" she questioned herself. She hadn't a clue as to what Draco meant. He'd always called her a mudblood, and here he was including her in some grouping with him.

"Hermione? You know, you're going to be late to Advanced Potions if you stand there all day." Harry had waited for her; he was ready to talk about the unspoken something. Hermione decided to break the ice. "Harry, is something on your mind?" she asked, as they walked out into the hallway. Looking down into her face, Harry's glance was wistful and worried. "Actually, yes. I was here earlier, in June, getting a head start on this year's quidditch strategy. Anyhow, I was getting ready to head back to the car, so Ron and I could leave for the Burrow, but I accidentally stumbled on Dumbledore and Snape. They were around the corner, and I was careful to not be seen. Snape was muttering something about how awful it was that _she_ _couldn't know_, and something else I couldn't make out." Harry paused, evidently not wishing to go on. "I know it's hard for him," she thought inwardly, "but I really can't console if I don't know anything."

Harry was silent once more, so Hermione prodded him. "Who couldn't know what, Harry?" Harry peered at her once more, his eyes brimming with tears. "Hermione, I'm sorry." He gave her a brief hug. "Dumbledore… and Snape… th-they were talking about… well, about you." Hermione's look reflected the confusion she felt, so Harry was compelled to continue. "Your parents, Hermione; they're… they're…" Hermione's eyes shot wide open. "What?! What's happened? Is my mum sick?" Harry shook his head, slowly. "Mione, you're adopted." Hermione stared at him for what seemed like hours. "Are you… sure about this? Maybe you heard wrong." Harry looked more than confident about what he'd heard, but he didn't say so. "Dumbledore also mentioned something about protecting you, Mione. You're in some sort of trouble, and Snape's in on protecting you. And, from what I detected, it's got some connection to… _him_." Harry looked grave. "You mean, Volde-… I mean, not him, right?" Harry nodded. "But what could he want with me, Harry?" Harry started to turn down a corridor on his right, heading to a different class. "I don't know, Mione. I just don't know."

Hermione, although wanting desperately to just approach Dumbledore, went on to Potions. She kept her wits about her long enough to jot down a few notes and perform a simple wart removal potion. Looking at Snape, she prayed he'd give her an odd expression, revealing some answer to her problem. Naturally, she found herself getting the usual, grumpy Snape, whose face couldn't help _anyone_ determine _anything_. Back in the common room that evening, Ron and Harry were discussing N.E.W.T.'s. Not wishing to put anymore pressure on Harry, Hermione crept into the quietest corner she could find in the room. Slipping into one of the squashy, burgundy-purple armchairs, Hermione started a small book she'd found. She got as far as the second sentence before she fell asleep. Unfortunately, it wasn't a pleasant sleep.

Hermione woke, startled from her nightmare, to an empty room. The fire, still glowing softly, provided little warmth. She looked around, praying no one had seen her wake up so crazed. Thankful for the solitary conditions, she rose to go to her bed. Cautiously silent, Hermione opened the door to the girls' room. Everyone else, naturally, was sound asleep. She stepped over to her inviting bed, but noticed some foreign object on her pillow. "Probably one of the girls' things they dropped." she mused. However, upon closer inspection, she saw it was a rose; a _black_ rose. She lifted it carefully, avoiding any thorns. She even sniffed of its velvety petals; it was unnaturally sweet smelling. As strange and frightening as it was, Hermione found the flower to be beautiful. Haunting, yes, but truly enchanting. "But who left it? It couldn't be….no, of course it couldn't." Her mind argued with her reason and logic. Her final resolution was to go to Dumbledore at the end of the week, on Saturday. "Surely if I go to him, he'll at least tell me something about my… my parents." Hermione knew, however, that she wouldn't tell him about the dreams. Not yet.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N- Hey! I just wanted to thank my first two reviewers on my first fanfic ever! I appreciate people who are willing to read my insanity. So, BIG THANK YOU to Lucyferina (I'll work on the long phrasing ºoº), as well as Keja. I'll put the next chapter out soon!!! Ttfn… ta ta for now!


	3. Truth and Lies

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Harry Potter….. If I did, would I be putting my stories on here?………..No, didn't think so… lol.

A/N: I'm SOOOO sorry it's taking me forever to type this up and leave it. Exams and all…. It's evil. Anyhoo…. Review if you can, and have a nice day! hehe

Chapter Three: When the truth lies….

Another beautiful morning greeted a very weary Hermione. After her restless night, she wasn't exactly eager to rush to Dumbledore's office. "But it'll be my only chance." she thought. Somehow, she felt the issue of her safety was beyond urgent. "And besides," she assured herself, "I know Harry must be mistaken about my parents. He just has to be."

Rushing out of the Gryffindor common room wasn't a problem: it was six-thirty, and Hermione was the only insane enough person to not sleep in on a Saturday. The halls, though eerily empty, were like a private moment of happiness. Each stone archway led to another sunlit, dreamlike corridor.

Hermione couldn't remember having ever felt so at ease in a long while. Her thoughts, happily muddled as they were, were suddenly disrupted, as Hermione crashed into someone coming from the opposite direction.

"You know, we really ought to stop meeting like this." Draco's smooth, utterly sarcastic tone didn't really affect Hermione; she was too lost in her train of random thought. This lack of interest served to momentarily vex Draco, as the smile morphed into a concerned trance.

"Hello? Hermione?" The use of her actual name seemed to shock her back into reality, along with Draco's hand waving back and forth in her face. She raised herself quickly from her fallen state, and walked onward, acting as though oblivious to Draco, who remained, kneeling on the floor. She just _had_ to get to Professor Dumbledore.

"Miss Granger! What a pleasant surprise. To what honor do I owe this visit?" Dumbledore's cheerful demeanor nearly sent Hermione right back down the way she'd come. "Oh what on EARTH was I thinking…?" she questioned herself critically. She knew, however that she had to ask. It was her life, after all.

Gathering her confidence once more, she decided to ask as smoothly as possible. "Professor, I've had this odd feeling lately. I think you know something about me that would help me sort out a lot of things. I realize it might not be the most…. pleasant… of news, but I'm certain that I need to hear it, sir."

Dumbledore gazed at Hermione almost admirably, although clearly pained to have to tell her whatever it was she was asking for. "Well, Miss Granger, there is something I've been meaning to discuss with you. Unfortunately, Mr. Potter reached you first." As usual, Dumbledore was ahead of the game.

Hermione waited, as Dumbledore walked placidly up to his desk. "Lemon drop?" He held up an old tin, filled with lemon candy, towards Hermione. She shook her head patiently. "No, thank-you, Professor, but I really must know what it was that Harry was talking about."

Sighing, Dumbledore popped one of the candies in his own mouth and laid the tin container back on his cluttered desk. Moving with a weary persistence, Dumbledore crossed the room and stood by the cheerful glow of the fireplace.

"Well, it is quite true, what Harry told you. The parents you've been living with aren't your biological parents. But that should make no difference, really. They would have told you eventually. Your parents adopted you from a Muggle orphanage, anyhow. Your heritage hasn't been altered, so don't allow yourself to be distressed."

Dumbledore's reassuring smile held little comfort for Hermione. She felt as though he weren't telling her all he knew. However, Hermione nodded, trying to be agreeable for the time being. She stood, gave a tiny, but polite, murmur of thanks and skidded out of Dumbledore's office.

The common room really held no appeal, and the great hall would still be empty. Hermione decided that walking around the grounds would be best for her thinking. The sun was still young, even as Hermione reached the lake.

"I feel so out of place." she thought inwardly. "I don't think Professor Dumbledore told me the truth, or at least, not all of it." Hermione would have gone back inside, but the lake seemed so calming, so familiar. She just couldn't bring herself to go back inside the dreary interior.

"I see you've finally found out." As malicious as the sentence should have seemed, Hermione noticed Draco's voice was not nearly as frosty as usual. "Well," he continued, "not completely. After all, your real parents weren't muggles. Dumbledore's such a moron, thinking he could keep that lie going."

Hermione couldn't stand Draco's knowing more about her problems than her, even if what Dumbledore told her was really a lie. "Leave me alone, Malfoy." Draco peered at her, his smirk slipping away. Hermione nearly jumped at the concerned look on his face. It was several minutes before either of them moved or spoke.

Finally, Draco edged only slightly closer to Hermione, clearly not wanting to irritate her further. "You don't know, Hermione. All this time, you've been one of my worst enemies, and I'm… well, I'm sorry." Again, Draco had used her first name, and, even more frightening, he'd said he was sorry.

"W-What do you want, Draco?" Hermione's voice didn't come out as forcefully as she'd intended, and she noticed Draco smiled slightly at her using his given name. He turned towards her, moving closer, cautiously.

"I want to protect you. I've always sort of, well… liked you, Hermione. I can't just stand here, letting you get hurt." Hermione's jaw dropped. "What are you talking about, Draco?" Here, Draco grimaced.

"Hermione, I listened in on a death-eater meeting this past summer. I had to know what my father would be getting me into. I wasn't really fazed by anything, like the torture, but there was something that snagged my attention. One of the discussions was about the return of the dark lord. That wasn't really what shocked me, of course. I knew my father would find a way to bring him back, eventually. But, what really stunned me was what my father was mumbling about you."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in utter disbelief. Draco nodded. "Yes, I know. My father was going on about how awful it was that you'd been raised with muggles, when your parents were some of the most powerful purebloods of our time! At first, I thought he was going mad. But then they had some sort of scroll, and someone read out about a prophecy."

Shaking his head, as though glad to finally let out some of the stress, Draco continued. "Apparently, Hermione, Dumbledore's been lying to you for your sake. You are more powerful than most of us in the wizarding world, much less this school. Dumbledore put you in a muggle household, but only after your own parents were found murdered by death-eaters."

Hermione was confused beyond comprehension. "Murdered? But, why?" Draco answered quickly, clearly driven to finish out his story. "Your parents wouldn't let any of the dark lord's people take you. They knew that there was a prophecy about you and the dark lord, but they were determined to prevent its coming true at all costs. The prophecy, Hermione, states that you will rule beside the dark lord. You're the one he's coming back for this time. _That's_ why I have to help you, even if it means betraying my father, the uncaring louse that he is."

Draco paused, looking at her warily. "Hermione, I'll never let them take you. I can't, and I won't." At the last of his words, Draco pulled Hermione to him, protectively. Hermione clung to him, although she was disgusted with herself for it. She felt lost, confused, and worried for Draco, who had obviously been dealing with it all for a while.

"Draco, it's alright. I'm sure it's just some crazy scheme. Maybe it's just a distraction." The young Malfoy pulled away slightly, just enough to steadily look her in the eye.

"You don't realize how real it is. My father would murder me, no questions asked, if he even knew I'd told you what I just did. Hermione, they plan to kidnap you and twist you into their ways, even if it means holding you in an eternal torture until you comply. I cannot let that happen. No, I _will_ not let that happen."

Draco pulled her close once more, even more firmly than the first time. "Draco, are you sure about this?" For a mere moment, the sly look flashed back into Draco Malfoy's eyes.

"Does this feel like I'm sure?" he asked, daringly. And with that, he met her lips with his, firmly, but with emotion. She felt no more disgust with him, only the urge to remain as she was at that moment. She'd never felt so safe.

"_Crucio_!" A strong, malevolent voice commanded a curse from the skies. Hermione shrieked, suddenly forced out of her dreamlike state. There he was, Lucius Malfoy, levitating almost directly above them.

Draco jumped back just in time to narrowly miss the attack, pushing Hermione out of the way as well. "Why, if it isn't my illustrious father!" Hermione was almost shocked to hear the snide, sarcastic voice of Draco returning.

"And if it isn't my son, the traitor. I'll curse you again, Draco, if you don't come to your senses." Draco spat towards the older Malfoy. "I've long since come to them."

Lucius smirked at Hermione, who winced, bracing herself for any kind of attack. She knew that running in any direction would only get her in more trouble, attracting attention, so she slipped behind Draco meekly.

Lucius returned his concentration to his son. "You are such a waste, Draco. It truly is a pity you didn't take after your father. _Crucio_!" Lucius managed to hit his mark this time. Draco fell to the ground, writing in pain, but keeping his mouth closed.

Hermione couldn't bear it. She rushed to his side, but suddenly felt a hand seize her by the arm. "Miss Granger. My, but it has been a long time." Hermione had no patience left.

"Let me go, Lucius. You have no business with me." Hermione winced, as Lucius twisted her arm forcefully. "You're mostly correct, but my lord and master _does _have a few items to discuss with you, I'm sure. So, behave yourself, and there shall be no problems."

Lucius let her arm loose, and waved the curse from Draco, who jumped up to where Hermione stood trembling. "Don't worry. We'll beat this, I promise." Draco assured her, bringing out his wand to face Lucius.

"Now now, Draco. I don't really wish to kill my heir, but if you make me… so be it." The two stood facing each other, each with their wands pointed at the other's neck. "Farewell, Father."

Draco prepared to attack, but his father, never wasting his time on words, had already begun to strike. Hermione acted faster than she thought possible. "Noooooo!" Draco screamed, as Hermione rushed in front of him as a shield.

Lucius couldn't stop his spell fast enough. Hermione's limp body crumpled onto the grass, almost completely vacant of life.

"Petrificus totalus_._" Draco fell to the ground, unable to face off the new attacker to the group. Hermione's eyes remained open, just slightly. She could barely make out a dark figure walking towards her, and felt him kneeling beside her.

"Well done, Lucius. You've nearly _murdered_ my intended." With that, Hermione felt an icy hand graze her face, ever so slightly. Her eyes suddenly felt like lead weights, and the severe pain searing through her body was so intense.

_"Oh, I can't let myself pass out. I just can't let them-"_. Hermione, despite her efforts, felt a great fatigue sweep through her, and blacked out before finishing her thoughts.


	4. Familiar

__

DISCLAIMER: Umm… yeah, I don't own Harry Potter or the characters…. Okay, soooo the plot IS mine, tho…. (two points for me..yay!)

A/N: Thanks for reading…. I'm sorry I still haven't typed up the end of the "mystery" about Hermione… but it's … interesting, I promise. I'll update soon!!! REVIEW, if you can.

Unnaturally frigid. Hermione could almost feel herself waking, but the cold nearly thrust her back into her comatose state. "_No_," she thought defiantly, "_I have to find out where I am. I can't let them catch me off guard_."

Hermione tried to open her eyes, but could only tell her eyes were blurry. She felt of the floor she was laying on: it was icy, almost, and some sort of marble. It was smooth, but very uncomfortable. "_I must be in one of the nicer torture chambers_." she mused silently, and rather sarcastically. Upon trying to sit up, Hermione felt a rush in her head, and fell back to the floor quickly. "Ohh…" she moaned softly.

"Ah, you've awakened unnaturally early. But, somehow I knew that would be the case." Hermione winced. It was that same voice she'd heard before she passed out, and the same as she'd heard in her second year, when searching in dark places at Hogwarts for the Basilisk.

She was with Voldemort. "_No_," she argued inwardly. "_This is Tom, not the dark lord. Well, **mostly** not the dark lord_." Hermione's senses sharpened quickly, and her eyes no longer seemed blurry.

She rose up, slowly this time. She wanted to stand, even at the risk of seeming weak in front of her enemy. She leaned forward on her hands, preparing to push herself up so she could stand. Unfortunately, she fell back again; her legs sprawled across the floor.

Suddenly, she felt a body shift behind her own. Two hands, cold, but strong, were supporting her shivering frame. Hermione remained completely still, as two muscular arms reached around her.

Her breaths became quick, and audibly so. "Shh… don't fear me." The distant, sneering tone was softer, full of concern. "_What is he up to_?" she wondered, worried he might attack at any moment. "I'm not up to anything." Hermione's eyes shot wide open.

"How did you…?" Tom laughed slightly, a nearly pleasing sound, to Hermione's surprise. He loosened his grip, turning her toward him. "I tend to listen in others' thoughts every so often. Especially when they won't speak with me." Tom rose, bringing Hermione up with him.

She pushed herself away as soon as she realized she could stand, slightly surprised by how willing Tom was to let her loose. "I-I'm not af-afraid of you, s-so I'm going to walk right out of here, and you cannot stop me."

Hermione's defiance wasn't exactly convincing, but she wasn't going to stick around to try it a second time. She reached into her robes quickly, readying herself for defense, but couldn't find her wand.

"Might you be searching desperately for this?" Hermione felt her heart stop. "_Oh, crap_!" Turning towards him, she saw Tom, holding out her wand before it vanished, having been sent elsewhere.

She knew it was over now, but she wasn't going down without at least _trying _to stick up for herself. "If you think that'll stop me, _coward_, you're quite mistaken. I don't need the wand to escape."

Tom's dark green eyes narrowed, flashing anger. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, pushing her into the nearest wall. "**_Never_** call me a coward. **_Ever_**." His eyes peered directly into hers, softening quickly. Hermione realized, worriedly, that he had her pinned to the wall with his body.

"Ah, forgive me. I forget whose presence I am in." Hermione raised one of her eyebrows. He was asking for forgiveness, but he wasn't slackening his grip. "Why do you want me here? I won't hurt Harry, and I probably couldn't anyhow, so you might as well let me go."

Tom's slightly misted eyes reflected a slightly hurt glance. He raised his hand to her soft, chestnut curls, toying with one delicately. "I…I don't suppose you remember…you can't really think I brought you here to defeat that worthless Potter, can you?" Tom leaned back slightly. Hermione nearly felt sorry for whatever it was she'd spoken of that had hurt him, but was too confused.

"What is it that I don't remember?" Tom stared deeply into her cinnamon brown eyes, looking forlorn. "Us. You don't remember _us_." Tom looked at her steadily, looking in vain for some sign of Hermione remembering something.

Sighing in vain, he swiftly leaned into her, taking her lips with his own. Hermione jumped, as she felt a wave of energy flow through her.

Their lips seemed to know one another, as though they'd kissed before. Something was new about it, but there was this familiar element, too, as though she'd known him her entire life. Tom pulled back from her, searching her face once more for a sign of recognition.

He smiled faintly, as he saw the confused memories darting back and forth in her eyes. "Somewhere in you, you do remember. For that, at least, I am thankful." Tom sighed, backing away from Hermione. He turned, pacing in the other direction.

She knew she should run, or at least make an attempt to find her wand, but she found herself drawn to him. "_Maybe he's the only one who can really tell me about my past_." Hermione couldn't leave him, not yet. Besides, she knew there was no escape if _he_ did not wish her gone.

Tom turned back towards her again, the slightest glimmer of hope still in his eyes. "You must rest. I'll take you to more… suitable quarters." With that, Tom took her hand, and the holding cell they were in disappeared.

When the room around them finally seemed solid again, Hermione stared at the dreary surroundings. It wasn't nearly as icy in temperature, but her new accommodations were just as dark: black, grey, and faded walls, dim lighting from well-placed torches.

The large bed, the only major piece of furniture in the room, had a shadowy green, nearly black, curtain droopily falling from the elegant, ebony frame. Even in the faint light, Hermione could make out a door at the far end of the room.

Unfortunately, she also noticed it was without a handle. "_Well, there went my brilliant escape_." she silently scoffed. Hermione's thoughts shifted back to the person who had just let go of her hand. Tom stood beside her, studying her intently.

"You'll rest here." He motioned for her to walk with him towards the bed, where he took a silent seat on the edge. She slipped beside him, careful to maintain some distance between them. Tom raised his eyes to her from the floor.

"I…I know you must feel exhausted, but I also am aware that you must wish desperately to sort all of this out. I'll leave you for a short while, just so you may rest. I'll return shortly, and we may discuss… a few things." Tom's eyes still had the same longing, despondent look from earlier.

Tom rose to leave, clearly wanting to leave without a fuss. Hermione almost relaxed, but quickly realized how unfriendly and lonely the room would be without someone else there. Panicking, she called to him without thinking. "Wait!"

Tom spun around, returning to her side, by the bed, almost instantly. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" He took Hermione in his arms, much to her embarrassment, and proceeded to run his palm to her forehead.

"You haven't a fever, but is there-?" Tom started to ask her if there was something wrong he hadn't noticed, but Hermione interrupted. "No. I mean, I suppose I'm alright. It's just that… well, this room is a little bit…" Her voice trailed off, as she was ashamed to say she was frightened.

Tom smiled slightly, loosening his protective hold on her. "I'll stay with you until you fall asleep, if that is what you wish." Hermione hated to admit it, but the more time she spent around Tom, the more she found herself attracted to him. "_Almost as though I'd met him before_…"

Tom sat to the other side of Hermione, who lay on her side, in silent contemplation, trying to slip into another round of sleep. His hands ran softly through her curls, and, every so often, Hermione felt one of his hands slide up to her shoulder, almost as to reassure her he was there. Knowing she would soon figure out what was going on, however, was what finally relaxed Hermione into her last bout of sleep. 


	5. An Erased Past Revisited

DISCLAIMER: No I don't own Harry Potter (JK Rowling _does_)…. or anything dealing with it… but Tom Riddle is chained up in my room right now… hehehe… I'm a little preoccupied at the moment. Hehehe… j/k.

A/N-Have FUN! Here's chapter FIVE! (And before you tell me, I _know_ it sucks, so HA!)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 5

"_I wonder if Harry or Dumbledore have started a search yet_." Hermione sighed, tired of sitting in the desolate room. She'd awoken ten minutes earlier, only to find Tom had gone.

At the foot of the bed, however, he had left her a fresh set of clothes: a soft, jade green sweater and some sort of black, flared pants. "Relatively normal clothing." Hermione laughed.

As she began the not so difficult task of changing clothes, Hermione cast a quick spell to clean herself. She'd found it very useful in her terribly busy sixth year at Hogwarts, when her time for showers was sorely limited.

"_Hogwarts_..." Hermione's thoughts drifted back to her friends. "_Surely they're searching for me. Maybe I could find some way to signal for them_." Instinctively, Hermione began to reach to her pocket, her wand's usual resting place.

"Oh, bloody potatoes!" Hermione found herself muttering under her breath, as she remembered Tom _still_ had her wand. She wanted to feel anger, but couldn't.

"_All my life, I've felt out of place. Something's always been wrong, like this isn't my life I'm living. Maybe Tom's the key to unraveling my past_." Hermione sat on the bed once more, as she'd finished grooming and clothing herself.

Suddenly, a slightly blurry light glowed in front of her, and Tom's familiar form materialized. He looked at her warily; clearly unsure of how Hermione might greet him.

"I believe the time has come for… a small chat." Tom's voice hesitated as he brought up the conversation topic Hermione had been waiting for so desperately.

"Indeed." Hermione found herself irritated with how meek her voice came out when she was around Tom. He didn't seem to notice, and moved to sit beside her on the bed.

Taking Hermione's shivering hand in both of his for a moment, Tom began his story. "Hermione, as you undoubtedly know already, you aren't _really_ Hermione Granger. I'm certain that Dumbledore told you that much, at least." Hermione nodded, patiently awaiting whatever shocking blow might follow.

Tom took one of his hands from Hermione's to run it through his hair. "The truth is, love, that you aren't even from this era."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, her thoughts jumbled. "_Not from this era? So I'm from… the past_?" She questioned herself inwardly, trying to quickly decipher what Tom meant.

Tom looked in Hermione's eyes, making sure she was following him before he continued. "Yes, Hermione. You are from the past. _My_ past, to be more precise."

Hermione's head suddenly hurt, like all the thoughts in her head were striving to come out all at once. She moved her hand to her throbbing temple, and the pain ceased. "I…I'm from your past? But how is that possible? I mean…I'm only seventeen."

Tom nodded with understanding. "Yes, you are, in body, seventeen years of age. I myself am twenty-one. However, both of our spirits are from over half a century ago. Hermione, I've known you for what seems like an eternity. Are you certain you're ready to hear about the truth? You look so tired still."

Tom pulled Hermione to him, cupping her cheek with his hand to have her look at him. Hermione tried, in vain, to push herself out of Tom's hold. "Yes," she argued. "I am more than ready to learn whatever you may know."

Tom smiled at Hermione, leaning in to simply graze her forehead with his lips. Hermione's breath caught in her lungs. Why did he have such an effect on her?

"Alright, my love. A great many years ago, when I was younger, I lived in a… muggle orphanage." Tom's eyes, turning from hers, reflected a long forgotten pain. Hermione took his hand with hers, and was relieved to have Tom's eyes look at her once more, seemingly strengthened by her presence.

"Needless to say, I was less than welcome there. But one day, in an effort to escape the tormenting and loneliness, I ran off. Not realizing where I was going, I ended up in some beautiful courtyard, by some nice little house. I sat behind a tree, brooding, nearly crying. I felt so alone, so miserable. I sat there for a while, thinking I was alone. But, suddenly, I felt a small hand on my shoulder. Turning swiftly, I found myself staring into two, perfect, cinnamon-colored eyes." Tom smiled slightly, remembering.

"It was you, Hermione. You couldn't have been any older than seven or eight, I suppose, but I found myself coming to meet you everyday. We became close friends. You were my stronghold, my rock." Tom looked at her with adoration, but then continued his story.

"But, of course, all good things must end. One day, I came to greet you, and you had moved. I was shocked, realizing quickly that I was alone in this world again. My heart became dark, vindictive. Without meaning to, whenever someone angered me, bad things would happen. Several times, I ended up seriously injuring the other children. I became even more of an outsider. It was only a year later that I got my letter for Hogwarts."

"I'm sure you know most of what happened at Hogwarts. I was sorted into Slytherin, and eventually became a leader in that house." Hermione nodded. Yes, she had definitely heard this information before.

Tom continued, dutifully. "What you don't know, Hermione, is what happened during my fourth year. The first day back at Hogwarts, a new group of first-years wandered in. There, amidst the bland, young faces of the newcomers, I found my eyes resting on the face of an all too familiar angel."

Tom stopped for a moment. Raising his hand to Hermione's cheek, he pulled her face close to his. Hermione closed her eyes, smiling into the kiss that followed. Pulling back, Tom grinned with honest happiness. "It was you, Hermione."

"You were three years my junior, but I still found myself wishing to be around you. I winced when you were sorted into Gryffindor. However, I managed to find you, and was thrilled beyond belief when you hugged me, knowing you'd never forgotten me. Of course, I was still as heartless as I had been since you'd gone. There were many times you came to meet me in the astronomy tower, and I know I didn't make it." Tom looked down, ashamed.

"But, through all of my cruelty and moodiness, you remained my faithful friend. I still remember my last year, when I finally told you how I felt for you, after having told you about being Slytherin's heir. We were all alone, as usual, in the astronomy tower. I leaned in to whisper in your ear that I loved you, and then, with a twinkle in your eye, you pecked me on the mouth."

Tom paused, just for a moment, his eyes glistening. "I decided, then and there, that I would never lose you again. I gave you a silver ring with a single emerald set in it. I made a promise to never leave you or let you come to harm. Then, quite nervously, I asked for your hand in marriage. To my utter surprise and joy, you said yes. And so, I left Hogwarts, knowing you would be with me in only three years."

Hermione looked at Tom expectantly. "_His story makes him sound as though he was once a happy person. How did he end up a murderer_?" She found herself wondering what was coming next in his story. She had the desperate feeling it wasn't good. She was right.

"Well, those three years allowed me to…further my darker intentions. My deatheaters and I, well…I'm sure you've read a great deal about what we did. By the time you graduated Hogwarts, I'd changed for the worse. However, I still loved you, and you never gave up on me. I found you, staying in your parents' town home near Hogsmeade. I suppose I must have changed a great deal, remembering your reaction. Your eyes seemed to search mine for an eternity. You must have decided it was still the real me on the inside, because you embraced me heartily. After that, we were engaged, and we met regularly at your home."

Tom stopped talking momentarily, not wanting to go on. "I guess I was…a great deal more abusive than anyone has a right to be. Your parents were already working as aurors, and my deatheaters warned me of the threat they posed. Without meaning to, I channeled my anger with them on you. The worst part is, you just took whatever I threw at you. One night, what would have been the night before our wedding, I stormed into your home and tortured you for over an hour. You just sat in the corner, crying in silence. I remember all too clearly the last words I ever heard come from your mouth: '_I love you, Tom. I always will_.' as I walked out the door. Hermione, I didn't even feel remorse after I left you there."

Tom shivered in spite of himself. Hermione, originally sitting beside him respectably, now moved as close to him as she could to comfort him. She stroked his hair uneasily, rather awkwardly. Although seemingly calmed, Tom shrugged off Hermione's stroking hand, before continuing his sad tale.

"When I woke the next day, I remembered slightly what I'd done. I rushed to your home, hoping to beg your forgiveness once more. To my dismay, you weren't there, and all of your things were gone. It was as though you'd disappeared. In my blind hurt and anger, I lashed out at the world. First on my list of those to suffer were your parents."

Hermione grimaced. She knew what was coming. "You…you killed my parents." she volunteered, meekly. Tom looked at her sorrowfully. "Yes, I did. Or, rather, I sent someone else to do it. My death-eaters were sent to kill and torture your parents, then bring you back to me, unharmed. When they came back without you, I knew your parents must have known I was coming. So, I went to the one wizard who would have been willing to intervene and protect you…Albus Dumbledore."

"Between asking enough questions and reading the little bits of information within his mind, I deduced what had been done. When your parents had seen how ill fated it was that you stay with me, they took you away into the night. Dumbledore agreed to help you make a fresh start, without me, by sending you to the future. However, he and your parents quickly realized how unwilling you were to simply leave me behind, so they altered their solution slightly. They buried all memories of me deep within your brain, where you would never be able to find them again, and then reversed your age. Now a baby, they sent you to the future, having Dumbledore put you into a muggle orphanage to avoid suspicion."

"Whenever I figured out what had happened, I felt my heart break. I took out my wrath on everyone and everything. Hermione, I missed you with every element of my being, although I vowed never to love anyone. In an effort of finding you again, I cast a dark spell, one no wizard had tried before."

" I willed my soul to leave me, resting until the future time came, when you would once again be in the world. I woke to a strange world, but my deatheaters were more than willing to help me adjust. I was still their dark lord, and my heart was still bent on destruction. I watched you in Hogwarts, with those Potter and Weasley persons, and I envied them. If I had dared to walk from the shadows, all would have been ruined, so I remained hidden. In your third year, I finally forced my half-living body, mostly just my soul, to materialize. No longer a ghost, I began to prepare for you. When my elderly self of this time finally was defeated, as I felt would be, I decided to begin to act."

Hermione gasped. "The dreams! That was your fault?!" Tom nodded solemnly. "Indeed. I began working spells to release the memories I knew lay within you. Unfortunately, all that really did was disturb and disorient your mind. For that, too, I am sorry. I planned on revealing myself to you this summer; when you would finally be gone from Hogwarts, thus out of Dumbledore's overbearing reach. However, that blasted son of Lucius found me out, spying like muggle scum."

Tom's eyes glowed strangely, a bright red flashing within the irises. Hermione slowly moved away from him on the edge of the bed. Tom noticed, shaking his head quickly. His eyes flashed over her again, this time their natural green-black color.

"I apologize, my love. There are still parts of me I battle with. I can't always find the way to control the anger within." He sighed, exhausted from the long speech. "At any rate, I am sorry for these… accommodations, but Draco interrupted my plans, and now it is unsafe for us to be together out in the open."

Hermione shook her head, hesitantly disagreeing. "No, it isn't that it's unsafe. You think they'll locate me if I'm anywhere other than hidden in some dark place. You're afraid they'll take me away."

Tom winced, biting his lip slightly. "No, of course not. I would never-mmph." Hermione interrupted him with her mouth on his. Pulling back with a slight smile on her face, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Leaning into him, Hermione whispered in his ear. "Maybe _I_ don't want them to find me either."

Hermione smiled, feeling Tom's arms return her embrace. It was incredible to believe, all those things he told her, but somewhere inside of her, she knew it was the truth she'd been in search of. They sat there, just holding one another, until a sudden noise, like bombs falling, resounded through the building.

"What was that?" Hermione jumped off of the bed, ready to run anywhere she needed to in order to escape. Tom rose, and Hermione spun to face him. His grim expression told her all she needed to know. Tom reached his arm around her waste protectively, his other hand holding her head to his chest.

"They've found us, love."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N-Okay, well, as bad as this is, I'll probably let my beta reader edit it later, just so I can post SOMETHING. LoL. Next chappie coming soon! Keep reading and reviewing.

Love always,

liZZard


	6. Separated

DISCLAIMER: Okay, now… if you've read the first six chapters, and now you suddenly think I own Harry Potter…. GET SOME HELP! (JK Rowling does) hehehe

A/N: Sorry it's another chapter so soon…. I just got eager…. So it's a really rough chappie. Have fun with it anyhow. grins

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 6

"We have to get out of here. Now." Hermione broke out of Tom's embrace, following him to the doorway out of the room. "_Funny…there wasn't a door before_." she realized, puzzled.

Hermione found she was being led down a long, dark corridor. Even with the torches dimly lighting the way, Hermione found she had to depend on Tom, whose hand held hers, guiding her along the way. Whatever had originally been bombarding the castle had yet to cease. Hermione stumbled often as she ran with Tom on the shaking stone floor.

The two continued until they reached the very end of the winding corridor, where a heavy, wooden door with a wrought iron handle stood, barring their way. All of a sudden, before Tom could have opened it, the door swung open on its own.

There, standing proudly in the doorway, was Lucius Malfoy. Hermione's eyes widened, a small wave of fear sweeping through her. Tom looked back at her, noticing her anxious glances at Lucius. "My love, we must go on. Don't fear Lucius. He's on our side."

Lucius scoffed at Hermione for fearing him. She shivered involuntarily as they passed through the door. She still felt Lucius' stare penetrating her from behind. Tom had led them outside of the fortress, which Hermione noticed to be an old castle, nearly crumbling to the ground with its age. Tom headed for the edge of the dense woods surrounding them.

"My lord, this place will be destroyed. They have harmed none of our forces, but the building shall simply not hold. What are your orders?" Lucius, though still quite proud in his tone, was completely submissive to the dark lord.

Tom stopped, turning to face Lucius, and let go of Hermione's hand. "Who is it that has attacked us?" Lucius smirked. "Potter, naturally. But he isn't alone. There's that dratted Weasley, along with some other odd group of fighting fools…thankfully, not including my traitorous son."

Tom turned to face the woods again, slowly pacing and thinking. "Would they be able to trace us, Lucius? If we were to simply run, not using any traceable amounts of power, would they catch us?" Tom's eyes, as he faced Hermione, were glimmering with threatening tears that wouldn't fall.

Lucius despised that girl for what she was doing to his lord and master. She was making him weak. "In all likelihood, my lord, yes. I haven't any idea how far you would get, but they would certainly find you quickly."

Before Lucius could give another word of counsel, a large flash of light came whizzing in front of the three from above. Suddenly, death eaters were everywhere, all frantic to protect their master.

"HERMIONE! Thank the stars!" It was Ron, relieved from where he sat on his broom. Harry had sent the attack that interrupted Lucius, as he couldn't see Hermione in the shadows. "Hermione? Are you alright?" His tone was full of concern, and Hermione almost felt guilty.

Looking over at Tom for guidance, she saw his eyes flash both anger and fear. "_He doesn't want me to leave…but I can't let him come to harm_." She stepped, rather uneasily, out into the moonlight. "I'm quite alright, Harry."

The deatheaters took it as a chance to escape. Despite Tom's cries for them to let him go, they held fast, fleeing into the darkness of the woods before they disappeared. Hermione turned back to face Tom as he called her name, openly allowing tears to spill from her shocked eyes.

"He's… he's gone." Hermione muttered, despondently, hugging herself in the chilly night air. "Mione? What's the matter? Who's gone?" Harry had gone on to chase the deatheaters, so Ron now stood beside the quivering girl.

"Oh, Ron." she sobbed wretchedly, burying her weeping head into his shoulder. Shocked, but more than willing to be there for her, Ron clutched Hermione with all of his heart. "What did they do to you, Mione? Whatever they did, I'll kill them all." Hermione, unable to respond through her sobs, only held on tighter, feeling isolated in her pain.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The trio returned to Hogwarts, proceeding directly to Dumbledore's office once they arrived. Hermione cringed at all the other people there. Besides those who came on the mission to rescue her, there stood Ginny Weasley, Lavender, Parvati, and most of the Gryffindors.

Basically scowling in a dark corner, Draco was also there. The moment Hermione walked into the room, under the arm of a very protective Ron Weasley, she felt the all too familiar icy stare of Draco scrutinizing her. She couldn't bring her eyes to meet his.

Dumbledore spoke to the group about Hermione having lived in the past. He still neglected to mention her past as being the dark lord's lover, as Hermione quickly noticed. After telling the group of necessary precautions they would all set into place, he sent them off to bed.

Hermione felt Ron being pushed ahead of her, moving with the small crowd leaving the office. She knew she would be the last one out, and was thankful for it. Exiting the stairwell to Dumbledore's office, she slowly began to head towards her common room.

Rounding the corner, she was rapidly grabbed around the waist, a free hand of her attacker covering her mouth. When she spun to face him, she winced. "Draco." Her voice, barely above a whisper, cut into his heart with the depressing, needing tone it held.

"Hermione, I …I see you were finally reacquainted with him." She nodded weakly. "In all my life, Draco, I've never felt so whole. He knew me, loved me. It was the final piece to this lonely puzzle that is my life."

Hermione turned her head to the side, trying to hide her tears from the man who stood before her. Draco couldn't bear to see her go through this. Not for Potty, Weasel, or under the command of _anyone _would he let her remain in this state.

"_They all think this is right for her. Dumbledore's such a fool, and I won't join them in torturing her_." He fought himself inwardly, trying to decide between his own wants and his love for Hermione. One glance at Hermione decided for him.

"Hermione…I swear to you, I'll help you get back to him. I won't let them keep you here." Draco's offer touched Hermione deeply. Hugging him gently, she whispered to him. "Thank you, Draco. Thank you with all of my heart."

Having thanked her friend, she crept away, drearily heading for the Gryffindor common room. Once she had gone, Draco slumped against the wall, letting himself slide down onto the floor. Never before had he felt he had a heart, not until it was broken. "_I love that girl_." he realized sadly, desperately wishing to be the heartless boy of years before.

"Ron, I'm exhausted. Please let me go to sleep." Hermione was simply not willing to deal with all of the Gryffindors and their questions, pity, or adoration. Ron was still trying to figure out why she seemed so profoundly unhappy, and Hermione couldn't take it.

"Alright, Mione. I'm sorry we've kept you up so long." He reached to peck her on the cheek, and she rose silently from the couch without a reply. Once in her bedroom, Hermione wished desperately to release all of her tears, but couldn't, knowing she'd arouse suspicion.

Walking to her bed, she cried out in surprise. There, resting on her pillow, was a piece of parchment, scrolled around the stem of a black rose. "_Tom_!" Her heart raced at the mere thought of him. She rushed to the bed quickly, scooping the rose out from the scroll and cradling it to her body.

Sitting down, she unrolled the letter. Reading it to herself silently, she felt her pulse quicken. "_My dearest Hermione, for whom the stars shine, are you well? I feel the ache of your absence with my every breath. The deatheaters took me from the battle to protect me, and I am sorry I could not protect you. It shall never happen again. Those fools who took you shan't keep you from me, I promise. If they try, their lives are forfeit to me. Know always that I am thinking of you every moment that I am living. I will not lose you again. Love always, your Tom_."

Hermione kissed the soft petals of the rose, the beauty of its gloomy shade enchanting her. Oddly, she found herself comforted enough to rest. Lying down, Hermione willed herself to sleep, seeing only the memory of two black-green eyes before succumbing to the darkness of her eyelids.


	7. Recovery

DISCLAIMER: _If _I owned HP, would I be forced to post anything I write on this site? Um, definitely NOT. lol… so, only the plot is mine, and …yup, _none_ of the characters or locations are.

---------------------------Chapter Seven-------------------------------------

Days seemed to pass as quickly as the minutes for Hermione. It had been several months since she'd last heard from Tom, and she'd gotten the impression she wouldn't be hearing from him again. Lessons were, once again, a top priority, and Hermione was thankful for the small distraction they provided from her lonely mind.

Harry and Ron barely noticed her odd, solitary behavior. They mostly spoke with each other, often discussing unimportant things like Quidditch and classes. Ron became somewhat more possessive, which only irked Hermione slightly. She was despondent to the world, save for Draco.

Draco met with her every night in the astronomy tower, where they'd "do homework." Often, they would simply talk about random things. Other times, when Hermione was feeling particularly lonely, Draco would sit with her, allowing her to snuggle beside him. They would stay like that for at least an hour before either of them would say anything. Draco seemed to understand Hermione, unlike the rest of her "friends."

Draco realized that he loved her more each time they met. Whenever he held her in that tower, although she didn't think of it as being romantic, he felt closer to her than ever before. Unfortunately, he knew her destiny was with Tom… his hated father's master. He feared, although he'd never tell Hermione, that she was in for a rough time ahead.

The events of the past month weighed heavily on Hermione's mind. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to have forgotten either. Dumbledore had begun to call meetings with the prefects about student safety procedures.

One student, a first-year, had been found in the corridor. The girl was currently in the hospital wing, highly unstable. All Dumbledore would tell the prefects was that she kept saying something about glowing, red eyes. "In all my time at Hogwarts, I've never seen such horror in a student's eyes."

Dumbledore was so distraught that he had the prefects heighten the amount of patrolling they did. He allowed them to patrol in units of two. Naturally, Harry patrolled with Ron, so Hermione decided she'd work with Draco. The patrols were mainly uneventful undertakings, so none of the prefects treated patrolling too seriously.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On one round of patrolling, Draco and Hermione were talking about what they were going to do once the school year had ended. "I'd like to become an auror, just to spite my father." Hermione sighed. "I think I'll probably do that as well, perhaps. I couldn't bear the idea of staying here, not even to teach."

Draco beamed. "We can work together, Mione. It won't be _fun_, exactly, but at least we'll still see one another." Hermione turned her head towards Draco, examining him carefully. "Thank you, Draco."

Draco's eyebrows rose in confusion, and the two prefects stopped. "For what?" Hermione peered into his steely, silver eyes. "For being there for me all this time. I felt so lost, like part of me was torn away. But, thanks to you, I almost feel whole again. I thought I couldn't go on without…well…without _him_, but I think I'm strong enough now that I can. I'll never be able to repay you for all that you've done."

As Hermione ended her thanks, tears welled up in her eyes, sparkling like the stars. Draco stepped closer to her, so that nearly no space lie between them, and embraced her briefly. "Mione, I think you know that I will always be there for you."

Hermione nodded slightly, as Draco tilted her chin up to face him. Smiling vaguely, he continued. "But there is something you could do for me, if you were willing to."

Stepping back two small steps, he knelt before her, holding her hand. "Hermione," he began nervously, "After graduation, if you could find it in your heart, would you marry me?"

Draco pulled out a silver ring with a single, shining emerald and gingerly placed it on Hermione's finger. He then remained on his knee, awaiting her answer. "Draco…for these past months, I thought I had a heart for only one man…a murderer from a life I lived long ago. But now, I realize that I have come to replace that shadow of a love with a newer, real one. Yes, Draco…if you would have me as your wife, I will marry you."

Draco rose quickly, scooping Hermione into his arms, swinging her around happily. "You'll never be unhappy again, my Mione." Hermione laughed, a sound that had previously only been a memory. Giggling, she tried to speak. "I know, Draco. Now… if you'll release me, we should continue our patrolling."

Draco instantly let Hermione slip from his hold, laughing at himself as he did. The two continued their rounds, beaming with sheer happiness. There were only two months until the end of school. "_After graduation_," Hermione thought, "_I'll finally be able to lead a normal life_."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The news soon spread about Hermione and Draco. The Slytherins, save for Pansy, were all mildly pleased with the idea. After all, they now knew Hermione was a _pureblood_, and that was enough for them.

Ron and Harry had conflicting views on the engagement. Harry, being the accepting friend, as always, was willing to set aside his differences with Draco if it would make Hermione happy. Ron, on the other hand, didn't support the idea at all. He was sure Hermione was making a mistake. However, Harry was able to console him enough to keep Ron from being rude or causing problems.

The couple's happiness was cut short, as the mysterious attacks on students continued. Patrolling was doing no good and only seemed to raise the risk of a prefect being assaulted, so Dumbledore asked that the prefects cease going on their rounds. "Instead," he stated, "It would be wiser for all of you to stay within your respective houses, monitoring students who try to travel the corridors after nine o'clock."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was only one month left of school. The attacks seemed to have ceased as mysteriously as they had begun. The students celebrated, thinking the unidentified villain had been vanquished. However, Dumbledore was quick to warn the prefects. "I'm not so sure all is truly well now. I know there's only one month left, though, so I'm certain the students will be safe until then. Nevertheless, keep your eyes peeled."

Preparations for the seventh-years' graduation were well underway. Hermione, having returned to her typical, overly organized self, was put in charge. She'd already worked with the other prefects on decoration, which was the bulk of the job.

They'd decided on an ever-changing color theme, just to appease all of the houses. The banners would alter, as well as the decorations, every five minutes. Having decided on decorations, Hermione left the speeches and such to the headmaster to work with. "_Dumbledore is good at getting creative with those things_."

The days grew longer. Exams were over with, and Hermione was anxious to simply get to the ceremony. Harry had already mentioned his wishes to be an auror to her. She remembered how happy he was that she also wished to pursue that occupation. "It'll be wonderful, Mione! I can't wait to be working with you and Ron again. It'll be like the trio, reunited!"

Hermione also remembered shaking her head at him, sadly. "No, Harry, it won't. Things have happened that can't be…changed, or forgotten. But, you're right, it will be wonderful…having you there as a friend again."

As graduation came to be only a week away, more and more couples came to be engaged. Unlike the rest, however, Draco and Hermione didn't announce their wedding plans, or snog in the hallway in broad daylight. They continued to meet each other late at night, mostly in the astronomy tower.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night before graduation, they met there for the last time. Draco and Hermione stood at the window, gazing out on the moonlit landscape. "You know, Mione, I'm rather a bit sad to be leaving this place."

Hermione sighed, turning away from Draco, moving from her place the window. "I…I almost wish I could feel sorry about something like this."

The forlorn tone in Hermione's voice alarmed Draco. _"She hasn't used that tone since…since she first got away from…**him**." _Draco couldn't bear to see her go through _that_ again. "What is it, Mione?"

Hermione remained turned from him. "Ever since…since _it_ happened, I've had to work with all my might to stay away from that dark, desolate place in my mind. If it hadn't been for you, Draco, I'd still be trapped there."

As Hermione spun slowly to face him, Draco winced at the tears he saw forming in her eyes. Her voice was desperate as she continued. "But now, that feeling has come back. Last night, I woke up and it was there, beckoning to me. I worked through this once, when I first lost him…but I can't do it again. I won't make it."

Draco reached out his hand to Hermione, which she took gingerly. Pulling her close to him, he whispered. "It's alright. I'm certain it's just your subconscious, forcing you to remember all this pain. I'll protect you, Mione."

Kissing her lightly on her forehead, Draco held Hermione loosely, trying to comfort her. Hermione felt the tension in her body lessen, and she sighed, relieved. She bid Draco goodnight, pecking him chastely on the mouth before heading back to the Gryffindor tower.

Oddly enough, Hermione found herself more than willing to sleep, unlike the rest of the anxious seventh-years. "Aren't you nervous? You'll be heading the ceremony, seeing as you've got the highest grades. Don't you think it's odd you beat the head boy _and_ head girl, Hermione?" Parvati's eagerness forced Hermione to giggle softly.

"That's two questions, Parvati, and I'm quite drowsy, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sleep on it." Parvati nodded, laughing, as she went to join the rest of the girls in the dorm who were eagerly chatting away. Hermione closed her eyelids, trying to ignore the heavy weight she felt on her heart. _"It's just your imagination, Mione." _Hermione's self lecture didn't ease the worry from her mind, but she did manage to sleep, trying urgently to avoid dreaming.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N- Ok, so I FINALLY got twenty reviews! Thank-you to each and every one of you… and if you HAVEN'T reviewed, PLEASE PLEASE do… I want to fix things and listen to new ideas…. (now, I'm no fan of flames…but if it's necessary…). Oh, and I'll be gone for about another week and a half, so don't expect the graduation chapter (eight, right?) for another week or so…. Till then, love you guys! Review, please? does little pout face THANKS byes


	8. Graduating

****

A/N:Okay…I'll warn you…. This is necessary space filler and it explains things….. You might not find it fun, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. anyways, have fun reading…. Review if you so wish.

Chapter 9

"No, Lavender, I haven't seen your robe!" Hermione opened her eyes slowly, groaning as she realized what day it was. The other girls, ordinarily late sleepers, were haphazardly dashing about, frantic to get ready.

Hermione rose up slightly, smiling at the others. "You all realize the ceremony isn't for three hours, right?" Lavender turned, facing the newcomer in the conversation.

"Hermione! You have a speech to rehearse, decorations to check on, and people to assemble…surely YOU realize that three hours isn't much of anything." Hermione jumped up with sudden understanding.

Leaping out of her bed, she made a mad dash to get ready. Hermione rolled her eyes, hearing the other girls' good-natured laughter. She jumped in the shower, taking only the minimum amount of time she needed.

Hermione flew out of the shower, using a spell to dry her drenched hair as she slipped on her dress robes. _"This is going to be one heck of a ceremony."_

"I'll see you all later." And with that, Hermione slipped out of the dorm, through the common room, and out of Gryffindor tower. Slowing down, she made her way to the great hall.

All of the students who weren't seventh years left the day before, allowing the full use of the school grounds for the graduation ceremony and festivities. The great hall, although beautifully decorated, seemed eerily empty to Hermione. "_It's so…deserted_."

She crept closer to the podium, the very place she'd be making a speech in two and a half hours. Hermione started to climb the stair of the platform, one foot on the step.

"I knew I'd find you here." Hermione jumped, startled, as she turned to face her spectator.

"Draco! Bloody kelp! You scared the life out of me!" Hermione tried to look cross at him as he approached her, but she couldn't stifle a small laugh.

"Oh yeah, Mione. I can see you're quaking from the sheer terror of my intrusion." Draco smirked, somewhat triumphantly, as he snaked an arm around Hermione's waist, pulling her from the step on the platform.

Hermione pulled out of his hold, reluctantly. "Not today, Malfoy. I have a ceremony to take care of. There's certainly no time for me to goof off with you."

Draco stared at her for a second, and then began laughing, although he was trying to stifle it. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "What? What's so funny?"

The amused Slytherin regained his composure, slightly. "You, Mione. I haven't heard you speak in that tone in ages. I'd swear we were both third years again!"

Hermione laughed at herself softly. "Yes, well…well…" Draco took her stuttering as an opportunity to close the distance between them. Hermione let him take her in his arms.

"You realize, Mione, that you'll only be Hermione Granger for another day or two." Hermione smiled.

"Oh really, Malfoy? I had no idea."

Draco chuckled. "Yes, _Granger_." Kissing her on the top of her head, Draco let Hermione go. "Well, we'd better let you get to those duties of yours. Dumbledore will be down soon. Imagine what he'd say if he caught us like this."

"I imagine, Mr. Malfoy, he'd say nothing whatsoever." Hermione giggled at the familiar voice of the headmaster. "_He was watching us_." Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the slight astonishment on Draco's face.

"And you're quite right. I do want Ms. Granger to get on with her duties." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. Hermione pecked Draco on the cheek before leaving both the abashed Slytherin and bemused headmaster in the great hall.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Professor Dumbledore handed out the certificates to the students without any problems, and Professor McGonagall announced specific awards to all the houses.

Hermione was mostly pleased with the uneventful ceremony, as long as nothing was going wrong. "_If anything_," Hermione thought ironically, "_It's the most boring ceremony ever_."

Finally, all diplomas and awards handed out, it was time for Hermione to make her speech. The students applauded politely, although they clearly wanted to get on with the day's awaiting festivities.

Hermione took a breath, and then began. "Every year, a fresh class of witches and wizards graduates from Hogwarts. And, every year, they are subjected to speech upon speech about what the future holds for them, or how they now have a great responsibility on their shoulders."

Hermione paused, looking out at her silent audience. "But, far more important than any responsibility we have to the wizarding community, is the responsibility we have to ourselves. Dreams we have in our own hearts are more important to follow than the paths of our role models or parents. In all honesty, you all know that when considering possibilities for your future, you paused to think about what your parents would want. It's natural to do that. They've raised you, and you assume they know best."

"But-." Hermione started, but stopped suddenly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something that made her blood run cold. Lucius Malfoy, sitting in the farthest corner of the room, going unnoticed, was staring straight at her.

"Oh my goddess…why is he here?! Wait…if Lucius is here…then is HE here? I…I'm certain I would have felt his presence. Why is Lucius here alone?" Hermione was frozen in place, her thoughts of worry overwhelming her logical mind.

_"_Ah-hem." Professor McGonagall coughed, politely, to pull Hermione's thoughts back to the present.

"But," Hermione started once more, "The truth of the matter is that it is your instincts and inner most dreams that guide you the best. You've cultivated your abilities here, at Hogwarts, and now you must follow that which beckons you from within. We all were born to play a part in this world. If we don't chase after what we truly believe in, we've betrayed our role for another."

Hermione smiled at her peers. "We cannot always choose the right path, or the most successful path, or even the most interesting path. But, we can use _our_ path. That is the most difficult step you'll take in life. Not your career or family."

"When you leave this place, there's a world of opportunities. If you pursue your dreams or aspirations, there is no wrong way to handle your life. THAT is your responsibility to the wizarding world."

Hermione sighed inwardly, happy to have finished. The students jumped up, clapping and hollering wildly. Draco, as Hermione noticed, blushing, was causing those from his house to yell with him.

Looking back to where she had spotted him earlier, Hermione found Lucius. Her body tensed, ready for some form of attack. However, Lucius simply tilted his head in greeting, and disappeared into the crowd.

Hermione stepped down from the podium quickly, trying not to blush at all the applause. As soon as Hermione had taken her seat, Dumbledore made a sign for the audience to be silent.

"That was the last item for today's ceremony. Congratulations to you all! Now, as it is, you all have about two hours to converse and have a meal with your parents and friends, as well as to get ready for this evening's gala. Until then, have a wonderful day!"

Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling as always, quickly exited the hall, followed closely by McGonagall. Hermione heard bits of their conversation as they passed. "Really, Minerva? They need me that urgently?"

Hermione couldn't hear McGonagall's reply: she was too far away by that point. "_Oh well. I'm sure it's nothing anyhow…just something from the ministry_."

Hermione searched the crowds for her parents, hoping they had come. Somehow, she knew they hadn't. "_I guess all those strange attacks on muggles a few months ago scared them off_."

Sighing, Hermione slipped out of the great hall, heading for Gryffindor tower. She knew she had two hours to get ready, but she felt strangely fatigued. "_I'll just take a nap before I get ready._"

The common room was abandoned. Hermione knew everyone was still downstairs, eating and mingling. She rushed up the stairs, heading to the girls' dorm.

Hermione flopped onto her bed, sighing. "_I don't know why I feel so anxious and tired. It isn't like anything's going to happen tonight that wouldn't have happened at the ceremony_."

With a few final thoughts, Hermione tried to fall asleep. Yet, even as she closed her eyes, she felt uncomfortable. Almost like she was being watched.

__

A/N: Yes, I realize this chapter wasn't so fun to read. but hey, it wasn't easy to sit down and right it out…lol. It is necessary, so don't get all wiggy on me. Oh yeah, sorry if you all expected Tom at the ceremony…..that's such a cliché move, and it wasn't as much fun as the other idea I had….. So you can be the judge of the upcoming chapters and see if my idea was better than tom at the grad ceremony.

p.s. reviewing is your friend! Have a nice day!

Toodles


	9. Abandonment

Disclaimer: Okay, if you've even BEEN reading, you probably know I don't own harry potter … or anything like these characters or locations. Heck… I'm lucky to own much of anything anymore…

a/n: okay, sorry it's been forever……. I've been UBER busy, and totally blocked. But now, I have some ideas for this satanic thing. And, lol, as usual…. Here's hoping you enjoy this thing.

----------Chapter Nine------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hermione, how did you manage to snag such an INCREDIBLE gown?"

Ginny, having come up from the dispersing luncheon affair downstairs, decided to check in on Hermione. Shocked at having an audience, Hermione spun around from the full-length mirror in front of her, revealing the full effect of the gown in question.

Laughing slightly, Hermione managed to quickly recover from the startling interruption. "Actually, Ginny, I made it myself."

Ginny quickly shut the door behind her. "Those other girls will be up soon, you know. They'll probably have a similar reaction to mine. I mean, that is one beautiful, artistic form of a dress."

Hermione blushed slightly, although she assumed Ginny was simply trying to make her feel more secure. She turned once more, though, and realized how lovely the gown truly was.

The velvety material was of a green, almost black, hue. Hermione had a thin, silver cord tied around the waist. The gown was almost of a Renaissance style, with a squared neckline and flowing sleeves. It was unadorned and simple, but it was all the more flattering because of it.

"I suppose it's alright." Hermione agreed, humbly. "But what on earth am I to do with this mess of hair on my head?"

Ginny laughed. She could tell Hermione had been sleeping, and now her hair looked like someone had literally tried to tie it in knots.

"Well, Mione, we can use some spells to clean it up and detangle it. But, in my opinion, you should just wear it down. I don't believe I've seen you wear it completely down in a few years."

Hermione nodded, smiling. "You're right, Ginny. I'll do it."

She turned to face Ginny. "I'm so glad you're still speaking to me."

Ginny raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't I… Oh, you mean because of Ron?"

Hermione nodded, meekly. "Yes. He's been so upset since he found out about Draco and me." Ginny smirked. "Yeah, I found it rather funny. Oh, and speaking of the Slytherin prince, what kind of mask is he wearing to that gala this evening?"

"Actually, Ginny….I'm not sure. He promised me he'd be able to find me. And then he told me it was mostly black, just to be sure I wouldn't mistake him for someone else."

Hermione grinned. "In all honesty, I wish they'd just let the girls wear masks too. It's only fair."

Ginny walked closer to Hermione, and pulled out her wand. "Well, Ms. Granger, I'm thinking we should get started fixing this mess. Otherwise, _no one's _going to recognize you down there."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was exactly 7:04. Hermione was about thirty minutes late for the gala, but she knew it would be fine. Most of the other girls had gone down at 6:45 or so.

"_I'm just hoping I can find Draco_." She thought, making her way down a flight of stairs.

Hermione slipped quietly towards the great hall. Peering inside, she noticed it was incredibly full. There was room to mingle and dance, of course, but she knew she'd never be able to find anyone in there.

"Why, Ms. Granger…it's rather nice to see you again." Hermione jumped. She _knew_ that voice. That cold, domineering, unfeeling voice. She turned to face him.

"Mr. Malfoy." Her efforts at keeping her voice calm were rather effective, but Lucius could clearly read how nervous she was.

"Ah, Ms. Granger…you might as well call me Lucius. After all, won't we soon be family?" Hermione cringed. She knew Draco no longer claimed his father, and most definitely wouldn't have been sharing any information about their wedding.

Lucius smirked. "I find it rather odd, actually, that you were able to move on so quickly. After all, haven't you loved my lord for…quite a great deal of time? It's rather sad that you were able to simply cast him aside."

Hermione winced. She knew she hadn't just moved on. She'd struggled with the same loss every day. She knew she couldn't expect Tom to abandon the evil within himself…it would be too much.

"I haven't moved on, Lucius. I just know that…that your lord and I can never be." Hermione wrung her hands, anxiously.

Lucius noticed, and looked down at them. He made an odd face, apparently when he noticed Hermione's engagement ring. "_I suppose he thought Draco wouldn't give me anything_."

Lucius recovered his composure quickly, smirking at what must have been some private joke. "Indeed, Ms. Granger. I do hope you enjoy your little…party, here. I must take my leave. There aren't many here who would welcome me."

And with that, Lucius Malfoy turned and strode down the hall. Hermione sighed, relieved. "_But what was he here for? It couldn't have just been for Draco_."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione walked into the great hall. She noticed Ginny was at a table with Ron and Harry, but Hermione knew she couldn't just go over there without feeling awkward.

Scanning the crowd, Hermione noticed several masked men in some form of black, but none were Draco. She slipped over to an empty table in a corner. "_I hope he can find me in this mass._"

Hermione sat there for what was beginning to feel like an eternity. Suddenly, she felt someone tap her shoulder, ever so lightly. She jumped, and looked up. There was a man clad entirely in black, his gloved hand outstretched to her.

The mask covering half of his face was black, but Hermione could easily see that the man's chocolate hair and dark green eyes meant he clearly wasn't Draco. However, there was something about him that was entirely familiar.

Embarrassed, Hermione realized he still was standing there, waiting for her hand. Slowly, she slipped it into his, rising from her seat. Without a word, they both headed for the center of the room.

A slow, soft melody began just as they began to dance. Hermione found herself lost in this stranger's eyes. "They look so much like…but no, he's gone."

Hermione felt a tear trail down her cheek, and turned her face away slightly. A gloved hand turned her face back to the man before her, who looked pained to see her upset.

The song ended, and a faster, more modern tune began. A throng of people rushed out from the tables and corners of the room to dance.

Hermione winced, but the stranger didn't release her hand. He began to walk through the crowd, pulling Hermione along behind him. Finally, they were both out of the great hall.

The stranger's grip only slightly lessened, as he continued to pull Hermione. They wandered down two corridors, until they finally reached a courtyard on the edge of the castle.

Here, the stranger released Hermione's hand, slowly. He walked into the shadowy edge of the area, hidden from the moon's light. Hermione watched him, still trying to figure out who he was.

"_He certainly acts rather reserved, and intelligent. I wonder if he's a Ravenclaw I simply never met_."

Hermione crept towards the center of the small courtyard, where she felt the moon's beams fall over her. She closed her eyes. It was almost a moment of escape from reality.

"You always did look so breathtaking in the moonlight." The stranger, still in the shadows, spoke sadly.

Hermione could have sworn she knew the voice, but it sounded like this man wanted to hide it from her. "_Maybe he's disguising his voice to see if I can find out who he is otherwise._"

"I have a feeling that I know you, but my memory's fuzzy. Were you in Ravenclaw?" Hermione stared into the darkness surrounding the man, able to see his form leaning against the stone wall.

"Slytherin." Hermione was confused, but not utterly surprised.

"_I thought I knew most of the people in Draco's house, but maybe I'm just no good at this whole thing with guessing who someone is_."

"Really? Are you a friend or acquaintance of Draco's, then?" Hermione heard the man snicker, and it made her shiver.

"Not even remotely."

"Oh, I see." Hermione began to walk towards the stranger. She just _had_ to see who this man was.

"Stop. Don't come any closer." Hermione jumped at the forceful tone, and stopped. The man seemed to regret it immediately, as he apologized.

"I'm sorry, love. I just can't let you see me."

Hermione shivered uncontrollably. "_There's something wrong here. I feel drawn to this man, and I must know him. Why am I so frightened_?"

The figure stepped to her quickly, embracing her to stop her shaking. "Shh, don't be afraid. I would never harm you."

Hermione pulled away slightly, just enough to look up into his eyes. Those dark, deep, green eyes that seemed to know her soul. The eyes that seemed to know her every secret and thought.

Hermione's eyes went wide, and she jolted out of the man's arms. "You… I can't believe… oh goddess! It can't be…"

The man moved back into the shadows, his back turned to her. "It can be, and it is."

From what she could see, Hermione thought she saw the man pull away his mask. He turned to face her, and even in that darkness, Hermione knew exactly who stood before her.

Moaning softly, she sank to the ground. "Why? Why are you here?"

Tom walked out of the darkness slowly, and stood in front of her. "The question is, why did you betray me?"

The icy tone jarred Hermione, and she looked up at him with tears falling from her eyes. "Betray you? I could never betray you."

Tom swiftly knelt down, grabbing Hermione's hand. Showing her the ring on her finger, he argued. "Then what's this? This ring on your finger…is that not betraying me?"

He looked at the ring for a moment, studying it. "Did you not even notice that this is the ring I gave you over fifty years ago? I don't know how that bastard Malfoy managed to come upon it, but he had no right."

Tom dropped her hand, and rose to look at the moon. "Why did you abandon me, my Mione? Why?"

He turned to look at her, and she noticed a tear forming in his right eye. She rose, moving slowly to him.

"I didn't abandon you. You never came for me. I was being told that you had forsaken your heart, that all that was left of you was the evil within. I assumed you'd forgotten me, and so I began to try and heal myself."

She placed her palm on his shoulder, and he took it in his hand. "But I still am in pain, Tom. I still long to be with you when I wake, and I still dream about you almost every night."

Tom pulled Hermione to him, placing one arm to hold her behind her back. Turning her chin up to face him, he kissed her ardently. For a moment, Hermione felt herself lose all her worry and pain.

"You must come with me, then. Hermione, I cannot live without you. It's true, that I have been turning towards the dark again, but I could control myself if you were with me."

Tom looked at her expectantly, and Hermione nearly found herself kissing him again in reply. But, as much as it hurt her, she knew better than to say yes.

"I cannot, Tom. I have made a promise to Draco, and he's already done so much to help me. I cannot break his heart by doing that to him."

Tom's eyes grew angry, and Hermione noticed the all too familiar red glow. Hermione tried to jump away, but Tom gripped her shoulders tightly.

"So, you would rather break my heart? You'll leave me, just like everyone else?"

Hermione was frightened, but more than that, she was brokenhearted. She knew what she was doing to him, and she couldn't stop it.

"Oh, Tom. You know I'll always love you, no matter what happens."

But Tom was seething with anger and hurt, and Hermione knew he wouldn't listen.

"Oh, really? No matter what happens? We'll see about that. And you'll regret this, Hermione. If you think you've been in pain thus far, you've seen nothing."

Tom released her, and Hermione fell to the ground. "Tom, please…"

He looked her in the eye, and for a mere moment, Hermione thought she saw his eyes flash their dark green color. But, they quickly returned to the flashing red of Tom's angry hurt, and he stalked away from her. He was gone, and Hermione knew the worst was yet to come.

"Oh, Tom." She whispered, sighing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione sat for quite a long time. Her tears had stopped, but she was still quaking from the experience.

"_I have to find Draco_." She forced herself to rise and head back towards the hall.

Rounding a corner, Hermione found herself knocking into someone. A tall someone. A tall someone with steely grey eyes and white blond hair.

"Hermione!" Draco swept her off of her feet. "Where have you been? I was looking all over the castle for you!"

Setting her down, Draco waited for a reply. "Draco…I was just in the courtyard."

Draco raised an eyebrow, and looked concerned. "Then why have you been crying?"

Hermione looked into his eyes, and felt herself break down. She told him everything, and, after much reassurance from Draco that she'd be safe, she fell asleep in his arms.

Draco carried her up to the astrology tower, where he was able to conjure up a small, simple bed. "Sleep well, Mione."

He kissed her lightly on her forehead, and crept over to another corner of the room. He decided he'd watch over her all night. And, in the morning, he knew he'd have to find Dumbledore.

"I won't let him harm her again. The dark lord's death day is fast approaching."

And with that, Draco focused all his thoughts on Hermione, who was sleeping before him. He knew that the next day, as well as those that followed, would leave little time for rest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: okay all you grumpy grumps who are angry with the draco mione pairing….. Guess what! I haven't decided who mione ends up with. Yeah, right now, you're all thinking it's draco. (well haha, I don't think so) anyways, you might want to stop trying to guess…. It might be more fun. Anyhoos… thanks for reading, and I promise to try and update soon . Reviewing is fun….. And friendly and safe. I'd love it if you all reviewed! toodlez…..


	10. One Last Cross to Bear

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything HP……. Although, if I had my way, Oliver Wood would certainly make a few more appearances in daily life.

-------------------------------------------------Ch. 10

Sunlight was beaming through the skylight, flitting across Hermione's face. She smiled, opening her eyes to the new day. Stretching her arms over her head, she rose reluctantly. "_Wait_. _This isn't my room…_"

Jumping to an alert posture, Hermione quickly realized she was in the astronomy tower. "_How did I manage that_?"

She recalled falling asleep in Draco's arms, and relaxed. Sighing heavily, she realized how much she had come to depend on him. "_I must be such a stressor. Especially after last night…_"

Hermione felt an unexpected pang of loneliness and shivered. But, although she'd never admit it, she knew it wasn't for Draco. She stood up, walking over to the window to gaze out on the morning, a welcome distraction.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Hermione turned around to face the intruder. The blond haired man looked at her expectantly, but she said nothing, turning once more to face the window.

"Good morning, _Granger_." Hermione grinned, feeling a pair of muscular arms slipping over her shoulders to embrace her.

Slipping out of his hold, she moved towards the door. "Is it, _Malfoy_?"

Hermione grasped the door handle, turning it slightly, but was stopped by a sudden, strong grip on her wrist.

"Why, whatever is the matter, Draco?" Hermione looked up at Draco, feigning innocence.

Draco smirked. "Oh, I don't know. I'm thinking maybe you should pay your debt before you leave."

Hermione pretended to look confused, forcing herself to withhold the grin from her face. "Really? I wasn't aware that I owed you anything…"

"Well, you're not getting out of here until you've taken care of it." Draco moved directly in front of the door.

Hermione groaned, dramatically. "Alright."

She reached to put her arms around Draco's neck. Pulling his head closer to hers, she pecked his lips softly.

Having kissed him, Hermione pulled back, expecting to leave. Draco pulled her closer again.

"I don't think that covers it, Mione."

Draco leaned in quickly, capturing her mouth with his. Hermione felt herself growing dizzy from the lack of air, and reluctantly pulled away.

"The next time you decide that I owe you something, Draco, please don't forget that I need air every so often." Hermione laughed at herself for sounding ridiculous, and Draco couldn't help but snicker as well.

Draco opened the door, allowing Hermione to exit first. She knew where they were heading first: Dumbledore.

Heading down the stairway, Draco and Hermione held hands. "Are you sure you don't want breakfast, Mione?"

"Yes, Draco, I'm quite sure. I want to get this over and done with. Besides, I'm sure we'd have to scrounge to get anything, since there's no one here who isn't in the process of leaving."

Draco grinned, though not really unkindly, and continued with Hermione to the headmaster's office.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ms. Granger, I must impress upon you the seriousness of this situation."

Professor Dumbledore sat behind his desk, keeping his composure as always. However, the loss of the twinkle that usually resided in those misty blue eyes was a serious indicator of the stress he was feeling.

He sat patiently as Hermione explained things she'd not yet mentioned to him about her encounters with Tom. But Dumbledore looked alarmed when Hermione mentioned having told Tom she chose to live without him.

"You don't seem to realize, Hermione, that he's a dangerous wizard. He could probably kill you if he so chose."

Hermione looked indignant. "But I was told that I had just as much power as he, or close to it."

Dumbledore nodded, patiently. "It's true, but that's your other threat. As you are two of the most powerful beings living today, he is undoubtedly attracted to you because of it. It's only natural that your powers draw you together. It's almost like a magnet, as your magic is of a different 'polarity', if you will."

Draco interjected, his voice traced with alarm. "But, sir, wouldn't that mean that they might destroy each other? Their powers, against one another…."

As he trailed off, Draco noticed Dumbledore's solemn expression. "That's actually a rather likely possibility, Mr. Malfoy. However, that is why they are so naturally drawn…it's somewhat like nature's way of preventing such a predicament."

Hermione, hearing all this rationalization for her attraction to Tom, felt confused and ashamed. "But, I… I thought I _loved_ him, Professor Dumbledore. Were we not attracted to each other for more than…our inner forces?"

Draco's face flinched a bit at the mentioning of Hermione's having loved Tom, but he regained composure quickly. Dumbledore was swift to rescue Hermione from her own doubts.

"Oh, Ms. Granger… It was highly unlikely that you and Mr. Riddle would never meet in _some_ way. However, it was not your powers that drew you together the way you were. That, even to me, is a simple mystery of fate. You became a refuge to him when he was in sore need of compassion and love. That was what created your bond. Your chemistry of powers simply strengthened it."

Hermione sighed. She still felt like she was missing something without Tom, but now she knew it was just that balance…that natural balance they made with each other.

Looking at Draco a moment, she smiled. "_I really do love him_," she thought, "_and I can't wait for our marriage. With my parents there and everything, it'll be so_…"

Hermione's thoughts paused, the idea of her parents causing her to feel an odd pain.

"Professor Dumbledore, I thank you for being so helpful and protective with me. But I have another question, if you don't mind."

Dumbledore locked eyes with her, and Hermione knew he had an idea of what she was about to ask.

"Professor, have you any idea why my parents didn't come last night? I mean, I do realize there have been some muggle attacks, but that rarely keeps them."

The headmaster, his face suddenly appearing forlorn, rose from behind his desk. Hermione followed him to the fireplace, while Draco remained a few feet from the two.

"Ms. Granger, I'm sure you recall my being summoned away yesterday, in the early evening."

Hermione nodded. "_I do_," she agreed silently, "_but what would that have to do with my parents_?"

"Well," the headmaster continued dutifully, "I was being prepared for an attack last night. Naturally, or so I thought, all of my students were safe at Hogwarts."

"However, just the same, Minerva and I, along with multiple others, were warned that muggles were not safe. Word had reached the ministry of an attack threat."

Dumbledore paused, looking into the fire for a moment. Hermione looked back at Draco, who seemed fairly tense, before returning her gaze back to the headmaster.

"Unfortunately, although the muggles here at Hogwarts were spared any attack, we absentmindedly neglected to look into other areas. Sometime this morning, around 1:00am, there was an extremely violent assault on a muggle household. The assault left three muggles dead. A man, his wife, and his youngest daughter."

Hermione felt her eyes bulging from her face. "No, please…tell me that isn't…."

Her voiced faded, the fear clutching at her heart, forbidding her to speak further.

Albus Dumbledore looked away once more, into the fire that slowly danced before him.

"The man and his wife were dentists, Ms. Granger. And the daughter…she was their only biological child."

"No! It's not true! It isn't…I know it isn't real." Hermione shouted forcefully, shaking her head in disagreement, her hands cupped over her ears.

But she knew. She had known before he'd said it. Her parents; her wonderful, supportive, adoptive parents, were no more.

"Why? Why my…" Hermione jerked, her body perfectly still. Those words of Tom's came back into her head, taunting her.

_"Oh, really? No matter what happens? We'll see about that. And you'll regret this, Hermione. If you think you've been in pain thus far, you've seen nothing."_

Draco and Dumbledore watched Hermione's eyes flash with shock and pain. They knew, oh yes, they knew.

Hermione shook her head, waking from the near trance she was in. She felt the ache within her, but she knew she couldn't bring them back.

"When is their funeral?" Dumbledore looked like he felt rather awkward, for obvious reason.

"Unfortunately, it isn't safe, Ms. Granger. And they've already been buried with a small service. It was too risky, as viewed by the ministry, to allow any muggles the chance of knowing what happened."

"Thus, the scene was investigated, cleaned, and then erased from all memory. Only you and the wizarding world may ever know they existed."

Hermione felt the tears forcing themselves from deep within. "_They can't even have a proper burial."_

She turned towards the door, wishing terribly to be out of that office. "Thank-you, Professor. I plan on leaving the grounds promptly, as to not force you to worry about me any longer."

Hermione's cold, distant tone alerted Draco, and he followed her as she whipped out of the room, and down the stairway.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was rushing at a ridiculous pace, and Draco found himself struggling to catch up with her. Hermione clearly took no notice of the world around her, her clouded vision causing her to cut too close to a corner as she turned sharply to her left.

As Hermione felt herself run her shoulder into the wall, she sank down against it, her sobs finally becoming audible. Draco was slightly winded when he finally approached her, and he winced when he noticed she was shaking violently from sobbing so hard.

"Mione, it's going to be alright. I promise it'll get better." The words, thought completely lacking in brilliance, were just enough for Hermione's sobs to lessen.

Draco gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder, kneeling beside her quaking form. "I'll understand if you…don't wish to get…to get married anytime soon."

Hermione snapped her head up to catch his eyes. "Why wouldn't I want to get married now? My parents wouldn't have wanted me to live the rest of my life in useless sorrow."

Her determined glance faltered for only a moment before she continued. "Besides, if I need anything right now, it's to be with someone who knows and loves me."

Hermione rose, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. Turning to face away from Draco's expectant glance, she murmured. "You're all I have left now, Draco."

Draco rose quickly, silently, and crept over to his beloved. "Hermione," he began, his eyes looking weary, "If this is what you truly want, then we can still be married within the week. We'll simply visit the ministry and get it all taken care of."

Though it was only slight, Hermione managed to give Draco a smile. "Yes, that's what I truly want."

The tall, silvery-eyed Malfoy took the girl into his arms, allowing her to finish her grieving in the company of someone who loved her. Hermione couldn't help but feel guilty, having rushed a wedding so quickly, when she honestly wasn't so sure it WAS what she wanted.

"_Well, here ends the chapter of my old life. I'm going to make a new one, starting tomorrow._"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Yeah, it's totally a short chapter. But I'm so tired of the Draco/Mione thing…. lol, yeah I know… an author shouldn't hate her own pairings. But hey, it's the story…. It's like it's got it's own mind or something sometimes. Anyhow, there seems to be a lull for the couple right now, right? Mione's getting over her (adopted) parents, and yeah… she's really hurt…..(I know you can't tell by the way she's acting, but she already felt a rift with them anyhow). I don't plan on making this a "draco gets the girl" fic, but don't assume that means that Tom's gonna just pop back in either. I don't like my stuff to be predictable…. lol, although it's definitely getting that way.

Oh well, I'll update soon and you can all figure this mess out then!

Tons o' fun from the badger on the run! lizz


	11. And All is Well?

DISCLAIMER: Yeah, it's been forever… I STILL own none of this stuff…Yeah, it's still JK Rowling's and etc. etc usw. If you're german

----ch. 11-------------------------------------------------

"Honestly, Mione. How do you live with that?"

Ginny Weasley was on one of her typical, weekly visits with Hermione, and the two were sipping tea in one of the many sitting rooms in the Malfoy summer mansion. When Draco and Mione had married, Draco had received the key as a gift, unmarked.

Although they felt suspicious, the young couple could hardly refuse the beautiful, sweeping place by the sea. Besides, as Ginny had quickly pointed out after the ceremony, Hermione would only be a twenty-minute broom ride from Ginny's new home.

Ginny currently found herself gazing up at the long portrait hung above the rather austere-looking fireplace. The portrait drew Hermione's eye as well, and she shivered. It was a rather cold rendering of Draco, his recently deceased mother, and his still missing father, Lucius. Hermione hesitated to ask Draco to remove it, as she knew he had been close to his mother.

When she had first moved in and seen the piece, Hermione realized something odd; the painting wasn't enchanted. The figures were as still and, for the most part, lifeless as any muggle painting.

"_Perhaps_," she thought, "_that's why it's so eerie. After all, why would a pureblood wizard keep anything so…so **muggle-esque**_?"

Hermione turned to Ginny, remembering her question.

"What do you mean, Gin? Live with what?" Hermione felt her eyebrows furrowing.

Ginny smiled mischievously. "With such… such a strikingly handsome wizard, of course! Every witch I know is wishing they were you right now. In fact, I head a few random witches in the Leaky Cauldron a few days ago, when Harry and I were visiting with Neville. All of 'em were going on about that husband of your's, and let me tell you… some of the things they were saying would have made even Draco blush."

Being quick to blush herself, Ginny's own cheeks had gained a rather crimson glow as she mentioned the whole affair. Hermione smiled weakly, shrugging as she let her gaze fall to the embers of the fire. She was silent for a moment.

"I know, Ginny. Draco often jokes with me, between his trips and missions, that I seem to have some healthy competition. He's rarely here anymore, though, so I just don't hear all that much."

Ginny peered at Hermione carefully. "Mione, is everything… alright with your marriage? I know this whole ministry thing has put a strain on your bond and all, but you haven't really said…" Ginny's voice trailed off, as she noticed a small tear form in Hermione's left eye.

But it never fell. Hermione shook her head, as if waking from a rather deep sleep, wiping her finger carefully across both eyes to remove any threatening tears. She laughed, rather nervously, and hugged Ginny quickly.

"Oh, it's all perfectly alright, Gin. I'm just learning to live as a married woman. I'll have to be a dutiful wife…and learn to deal with it all."

Ginny smiled, somewhat relieved. She knew that Draco had changed quite a bit over the last few months, and his being gone so often was changing Mione in the process.

"In which case, Mione, you need to quit with the mopey business! I think you ought to come with me to visit Mum at the Burrow. It might do you some good, you know. Besides, Harry and Ron'll be coming back tomorrow. You could spend a few days with them, and let Mum treat you as a guest. You KNOW she loves having you over."

The bright and cheery plea was tempting, and Hermione appreciated Ginny's willingness to share her only time with Harry, her fiancé, in order to perk Mione up. But, alas, Hermione had to refuse.

Shaking her head reluctantly, Mione tried to explain. "Draco's due to come in very soon, possibly even tomorrow. What if he came home to a bitter, abandoned mansion? I just couldn't do that to him, especially with his being gone so often."

Hermione smiled, feeling rather silly at having called the mansion "bitter" and "abandoned" with such a serious tone to it. Ginny nodded, giggling a bit as she hugged her friend goodbye.

"Really, Mione….you simply MUST perk up. At least, TRY to be a bit cheerier for the handsome ferret when he gets in."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Having washed up the teacups and saucers from Ginny's visit, Hermione let herself wander into the library. She always loved going in there, sensing that it was the least lonely of all the rooms in that manor. Hermione sent a quick spark to start a soft, merry little fire on the hearth.

"_Hmm…I think a Dark Arts book would be appropriate, seeing as I'm going to be the new dark arts professor and all_."

Sinking into the bulky, crimson armchair, Hermione sighed. She didn't like to admit it, but there were times, when she was all alone, that she really enjoyed delving into a book about forbidden subjects, warlocks gone wayward, and magic of the darker variety.

As she approached a rather familiar entry on Salazaar Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets, Hermione felt her lids grow heavy. "_I haven't slept much in a while_." she mused, "_I guess a little nap couldn't hurt_."

A creak from the front hall woke Hermione from her blurred and shadowy dreamscape. For a second, she hesitated.

Then, the all too familiar sound of two tall, dark brown, carefully laced boots echoed down the corridor. Hermione sighed, both relieved and happy.

"_It's him_." she realized silently. "_He's home_."

"Mione? Mione, are you home?" Draco's voice seemed to call out from all of the first floor corridors, and Hermione found herself fairly thankful for only having been as far as the library.

She rose quietly, slipping from her snug position in the armchair to go and greet her husband.

"Ahh!" Hermione peeped quickly, and caught herself, having found herself face-to-face, nose-to-nose with Draco Malfoy.

She backed away a few steps, clutching her hand to her heart dramatically.

Draco stood in reserved, controlled silence for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest. His look was mockingly cold and removed, but even he couldn't hold the amused twinkle out of his eyes at his wife's shock.

Chuckling unexpectedly, with much warmth, he snatched Hermione to him, embracing her as she laughed at her own ridiculousness. Draco pecked Mione on the mouth, before pulling away to gaze into the eyes of the woman he had missed over the past month.

"Heavens, Mione. One of these days, you'll have to tell me your secret. I mean, how is it that you manage to get prettier every time I see you?"

Hermione shook her head, sneering at him.

"And one of these days, Draco, you're going to have to learn your flattery doesn't affect me."

Draco smirked. "Oh, really now? Are you quite certain?"

The blond man began tickling her mercilessly, knowing that to be her one weakness with him.

"Eeeek!" Hermione shrieked with hysterical laughter, followed quickly by winded pleas of "Stop, please…please…I can't breathe!"

Draco smiled triumphantly. "It's nice to be home, you know."

Draco moved for the door to the study, Hermione quickly following him as he flicked his wrist to dim the lights.

"Well," Hermione whispered, "It's not so terrible _having_ you home either."

The tall, silver-haired man turned his head to smile at her, taking her hand in his as they made their way up the stairs. The couple crept rather quietly to the bedroom.

As Hermione changed into her bed robes, she heard Draco coughing from the bathroom. _"That sounds rather a bit…strong for a normal cough…"_ Hermione's thoughts twinged with a slight uneasiness.

When her husband emerged, there was no longer a fair flush in his cheeks, and the man who had seemed in such high spirits a few moments before suddenly seemed sallow and empty.

"Darling," Hermione began, making her way from the bed to her husband's side, "Is…is everything alright? Did something happen on this last expedition?"

She placed her hand on his shoulder, feeling a wave of something pass through her. _"Was that cold? Darkness? Pain?"_

Draco seemed to sense Hermione's pain, shrugging her hand off quickly, almost defensively.

"NO." Draco's voice held an unfamiliar, biting anger. Hermione recoiled, realizing slowly just what might have happened on that last mission.

Draco looked at Hermione reproachfully, his eyes holding great remorse. "Look, Mione…I'm sorry, but maybe things got a little out of hand this last trip. I seem to have gotten something into my lung, so I've had a few episodes of coughing up blood. But I'm no worse off than Ron, seeing as he's got a bloody awful injury on that leg of his."

Moving towards the bed, Draco continued. "It's alright, though. I'll be fine soon, and it'll all blow over. For right now, let's just get to bed. I haven't seen you in what seems like an eternity, after all."

Mione smiled slightly, and made her way to the bed. She couldn't excuse the thought from her head, though, that Draco wasn't telling her much of anything. There was no detailing what had happened, or who it was that they had faced.

"I missed you so much, Mione." Draco draped his arm over his wife longingly, and he traced her neck with kisses, leading to her shoulder.

Smiling, Hermione turned in to face him, and the two spent a night making up for all of the past months of Draco's being in-and-out all the time.

Even the moonlight, streaming in from the balcony window, seemed to sympathize with the lovers, as it cast its most magical glow down on them. Hermione found herself lost in the dreamscape of the moment, and couldn't remember at what point she fell asleep.

--------------------------------------------------

Author notation: okay, I plan on making a good few more chapters during this month… just been needing to defeat the evil and much accursed IB HOMEWORK…. On top of my other activities…. I promise to try and learn to type up this stuff faster for you who are eager….

Oh, and BY THE WAY…. Draco haters, it's still not an ALL draco story.. Never fear… there prob won't be an uber happy ending anyhow oh… and if you all WANT a pro-Draco story, should this one turn out well… and if you would like to see if I could write one (or if you wanna laugh at my meager attempts) … lemme know. It's a fun thing, writing.. But if I don't get feedback, I have to assume that it's no good…. So lemme know… it's not that hard… there's this little button and..

Ok, done rambling now. Love you all muchly… thanks for being patient.

lizz


	12. Almost Home

DISCLAIMER: The original chars and locations ain't mine, and I don't really feel the need to claim them…. They belong to some gal by the name of Rowling.

Chapter 12- Almost Home

__

"I'd really like to know, **one** day, why the morning has to come so soon…"

Hermione's eyes cracked open. A hazy flicker of sunlight danced its way across her face, and Hermione shifted under Draco's casual embrace. Turning over cautiously, she found herself face to face with Draco's chest. With an inaudible groan, Hermione twisted back to her first position, only now, her covers were twisted around her ankles in a rather confining, suffocating fashion.

"_Oh, bloody carrots…"_

The curly-haired woman realized quickly there was to be no going back to sleep _this_ morning. She shifted carefully, trying to slip out of Draco's arms without waking him. After all, it was a well-known fact that this particular wizard was _not_ a morning person.

"Okay…lift one arm, slide a little…move other arm…slide to edge…foot on floor- AH…that's cold." Hermione prodded herself along inwardly.

She rose from the bed leisurely, allowing herself a few moments to actually wake up a bit. The light from the veranda door caught her eye, and Hermione wandered over to it. She found herself gazing out on the grounds; a plot of lush, green tones, even now, as winter was drawing its first breath.

The cherry blossoms bloomed year-round, thanks to a few spells Hermione had learned. She loved those blossoms, for what reason she wasn't sure. _"Perhaps it's that whole Japanese association with death…they're such a tragic sort of beauty…"_

There was, of course, a rose garden as well, complete with bushes in nearly continuous flower. Well, all except for one small bush. Hermione had taken one bush to plant in the far corner of the rose garden. She'd always wanted to grow a black rose, just to please that part of her that found that type of thing to be intriguing. Hermione _had_ finally gotten it to blossom, but it would only bloom under a full moon, once or so a year.

Hermione shivered. _"Why do I feel like it's desperately chilly in here?"_

A small snicker from the bed forced Hermione's attention away from the window. An all-too-familiar grin greeted her, along with a pair of flashing, steely eyes.

"And what are you smirking at _me_ for, Mr. Nakey-pants?"

Hermione placed a hand on her hip, realizing quickly why she had been so cold. The shock on her face at the feel of bare skin forced Draco into an outburst of laughter.

" Who are _you_ calling Nakey-pants?" He managed between breaths.

Suddenly, struggling to cover her naked body with her arms, Hermione rushed to the bed. She snatched up her pillow as she leapt onto her side of the bed, and hurled it at her husband, who was trying to regain composure.

"Oh, just you wait, Mione…" Draco reached up to seize his attacker, but Hermione had already made her way over to an armchair on the other side of the room. Strewn across the velvety arm was her robe, and Hermione pulled it over her arms hurriedly.

She slipped back over to the bed, beaming with amusement at her own ridiculousness. Draco sat, leaning back on the wooden headboard of the canopy bed. He was covered from the waist down, but only with the sheets. Draco's face held a mirthful smirk, a sign that he'd regained his cool demeanor.

Hermione slid one leg under the sheets, but before she could sit back down on the mattress, she felt two arms snake their way around her waist possessively, and she was pulled down on her back. She shrieked softly, and struggled not to laugh. Draco rolled over, placing himself on top of her assertively, but not forcefully.

Almost against her will, Hermione giggled, and Draco nibbled at her lip playfully. Leaning his head down to sweep past her ear, he whispered his words of triumph.

"That'll teach you, _Granger_…"

Draco rolled back away from Hermione, and the two lovers relaxed back against their pillows, regretting that it was already a new day.

"You know, Mione…" Draco pulled his wife to him leisurely. "We could just stay here all day…no worries, no cares…just you and me."

The blond man ducked his head toward Hermione's face for a kiss, but she turned away, forcing herself to sit up. Draco looked irritated for a moment, but then smirked and thought it to be more foreplay.

Hermione glanced at him, wincing at playful expression.

"No, Draco. I'm really very sorry, but I have to go in to work today. Lydi has taken the week off, and no one could cover for her today but me."

Draco's brows furrowed instantly.

"What? You mean that muggle coffee shop of yours?"

Hermione cringed at the icy tone of his voice, and stood up from the bed indignantly.

"Yes, that _muggle_ coffee shop of mine."

"I don't know _why_ you work with those…those _people, _Hermione. You know that the minute you said you wanted to open up a shop, I was your biggest supporter. But a shop for _muggles_? I cannot believe you…serving such _filth_."

Hermione stared at her husband in shock for a mere moment, letting the hateful tone sink in. Then, she retaliated.

"What are you talking about, Draco? I don't know why you suddenly have such a problem with my running a shop, but-"

"It's not the blasted shop, Hermione, and you know it! I don't think you understand exactly how low our status drops every time you make it so _obvious_ that you tolerate muggles. It's one thing to let that sort of waste and refuse take up residence at Hogwarts, but it's utterly sickening to have a witch running a business FOR muggles."

Hermione eyed Draco crossly, wishing her eyes would throw a few daggers his way.

"What's wrong with muggles? Why are you all of a sudden giving me such grief, Draco?"

"Maybe I don't like _my_ wife being taken away from spending time with _me_, especially to serve lesser beings…like those fucking MUDBLOODS."

Hermione felt herself snap inside; at the way Draco treated her like a possession, at the way he was bossing her around, and, most of all, at that awful, biting name she'd endured being called many years prior.

"My parents WERE those MUDBLOODS you're blasting me about!"

"Hermione, _they_ weren't your parents. They-"

Hermione interrupted quickly. " They raised me, were supportive of my being a witch…_they _were the ones who held me when I cried at being called a mudblood."

Draco gazed at his wife carefully, and the room was silent. Tears were threatening to cascade from Hermione's eyes. Draco suddenly seemed to change, as though a cloud of anger had been what started the fight, and now it had passed. Hermione watched him warily, sensing the wave of change that seemed to have swept over him.

__

"What happened while he was away…?"

Draco sighed. "I apologize, love. I shan't let my crankiness take over me again like that."

Hermione was silent, but she knew in her heart she would forgive him soon. She just couldn't let him know that yet.

Standing from the bed stiffly, Draco made his way to where his wand was resting on a nearby table. He cast a quick spell to clean and clothe himself, and made his way to the door.

He paused, turning to face Hermione briefly. "I actually have some business to attend to today. I expect I shall return this evening."

Draco then sauntered from the room, leaving nothing behind but a soft _click_ of the door. Hermione sighed, put off by the stiff, removed tone her husband had just used with her.

__

"He becomes more of a Malfoy every day…"

Hermione took a quick shower, the muggle way, and prepared herself for work.

__

"At least it's just books and coffee. It isn't as though I'm dabbling in potions or anything."

-

"Thank-you for visiting Fetish's, and please come again soon."

Hermione's headache didn't seem to put much of a damper on her sunny disposition with customers. She had to admit, though, that her cheeks were beginning ache from the "friendly" smile she'd plastered on her face.

Hermione's register had been operating poorly all morning, and, noticing that the line was gone, she decided to use it as an opportunity to duck down under the counter and work on the misfiring thing. She pulled out the cash drawer on the way down, and attempted to check out the wiring. She really hadn't a single clue as to what she was doing.

__

"Confounded piece of machinery…wish I could use my wand…"

Hermione struggled for no more than four minutes before hearing someone approach her register from overhead.

"Be with you in a moment."

She stood from under the counter quickly, narrowly avoiding a sound cracking of her skull on the edge. Hermione was having an extreme difficulty in shoving the cash drawer back into its slot, and remained hunched over, trying to jam it in. Her customer began to order as soon as she stood.

"I'd like a mocha latte, please. Oh, and a chocolate frog as well."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears! Managing to roughly slam the drawer back into it's place, she snapped her head up to give the stranger a gaze of blatant disbelief.

"Harry Potter!" She all but shrieked at the sight of her old friend.

Harry's glass-green eyes darted around the room nervously, as he hoped no one paid Hermione's little outburst any attention. When no one showed any interest, he sighed, quite relieved.

Smiling, he turned back towards the practically bouncing woman before him.

"So, Hermione, how have you been? I'm sure we have a bit to catch up on."

-

a/n: you all will be more than happy to know… I have a PLOT now. Isn't that great? Right in the middle of IB history and everything…I came up with it. And so, as soon as ms. Urbanski and the school system stop giving out so much work, I have updates to be posted! Many of them, too! …. And I know this may sound pompous, but I know there are some of you out there who don't review… I don't care if you hate it, (although flamers are QUITE unkind and unneccessary) I want a review….. I'd like ten before the next post. Since I average a month between, it shouldn't be that hard!

Byes……. lizz


	13. Reunited on Two Counts

DISCLAIMER: It isn't my cast of characters, or even my original list of settings… that's JK Rowlings' work… I'm only the rather dull, slow, and odd plot writer.

* * *

Ch. 13 Reunited on Two Counts

"It still baffles me, Hermione. How did you manage to open up this place without going into debt?"

Harry and Hermione had been chatting it up for nearly an hour, ignored by the rushing customers in a corner of _Fetish's_, Hermione's very own coffeehouse. While reclining on the russet-colored cushions of a sofa, the pair discussed current problems with muggle vs. magic communities, reminisced over their time at school, and now Harry seemed to be moving on to the topic of personal matters.

Hermione blushed, an awkward smile crossing her lips. She wasn't exactly keen on bringing up Draco's involvement with the business, knowing what an effort it had always been for Harry to simply remain "pleasant" when talking about him.

"Well," she began," Draco chipped in a bit, but he promised to let me pay him back as soon as I could."

To Hermione's mild surprise, Harry didn't make an awkward smile or an irritated grimace. Instead, he simply nodded with common understanding. He smiled at Hermione as he replied.

"That's reasonable, I'd say. He sounds like he must be a great husband to you."

Hermione nodded, but not before catching a rather far-off look on Harry's face. She had an idea of which girl _he_ was thinking about.

"Harry! Don't tell me you _still_ haven't made a proposal to certain Weasley girl…"

Now it was Harry's turn to blush, and he began coughing nervously for several minutes before he could speak. Hermione grinned at her friend's little display, stifling the urge to laugh.

As Harry recovered, Hermione sighed at how easily she could pinpoint his thoughts. Harry chuckled lightly as he answered.

"Now that you mention it,…Hey, wait a minute- Why are you asking me this? Who said I ever even _considered_ marrying Ginny Weasley?"

Hermione snickered, holding back a small outburst of laughter.

"The question really is, who _hasn't_ spoken of you marrying Ginny?"

The scarlet shade in Harry's cheeks faded into a light pink, and even he had to chuckle at himself. Hermione could tell he'd been wanting to talk about Ginny for quite some time, more than likely unwilling to bring it up with Ron.

"Well, Mione," he started, using Hermione's nickname for the first time that day. "I actually already sort of went out and got this ring…"

As Harry's voice trailed off, Hermione noticed him pull out a miniature, black box of crushed velvet. She held her breath, already knowing by Harry's twinkling expression what was hidden within. Harry's hand moved quickly to flip open the hinged compartment, and Hermione held in a shriek when she saw the contents.

"Oh, _Harry_!"

* * *

The two friends had been talking for about two hours when Hermione decided she'd ask about Ron. After all, Draco had said Ron got his leg hurt pretty badly.

"So, Harry, how is Ron's leg?"

Harry, who was then taking a sip of his coffee, sprayed most of it right back out again, narrowly avoiding choking. He looked at Hermione like he'd just seen an apparition of absolute horror.

"How did you know about Ron's leg?"

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Harry studied her for a moment. "I mean, where did you hear about Ron hurting his leg?"

Hermione suddenly felt like something wasn't quite right. Surely Draco was in the know, just like every other agent in the ministry. It couldn't be _that_ big a secret that Ron was attacked.

Sensing that maybe something was off, Hermione decided to fib. "Well, I heard it from Ginny. Why? Should I not have?"

Harry sighed, relieved. "Oh, Hermione, no it's fine. I was concerned because I thought you'd heard it from- Well, never mind. It makes no difference."

Hermione shook her head ardently. "No, Harry. Tell me who I shouldn't have heard it from,… please."

The man readjusted his spectacles uncomfortably. He seemed to be debating with himself as to whether he should or should not tell his pleading friend. A sudden shrug of the shoulders signaled Hermione, and she knew he'd tell her.

"Look, Hermione," he spoke softly. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't hear it from…well, from Draco. Don't be alarmed or anything. It's just that, since the ministry knows about the Malfoy reputation with _darker_ happenings, they thought they'd keep an eye on Draco. You know, just to be certain he wasn't a death eater or anything."

Harry tried to give Hermione a reassuring look, but she wasn't buying. She loved her husband, but she fully understood that there might be a good reason for the ministry to check into his actions. However, she couldn't bring herself to tell Harry she'd heard about Ron from Draco.

"You see," Harry continued. "We were recently attacked by a new wave of death eaters, and…Well, let's just say Ron was his usual graceful self, which actually saved him from a rather fierce blow, but he ended up getting his leg bashed a bit. We were there to investigate exactly who all was organizing the new uprising, and also…to see if they still had their snakey mascot backing them up."

Hermione bit her tongue nervously. "And?"

Harry locked eyes with his friend, immediately regretting having mentioned the person who had caused her so much pain and anguish.

"We didn't find him." He lied.

Hermione relaxed, although Harry could tell she was at least a little disappointed.

"We actually found a few of our old schoolmates, though. Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent Bulstrode were there, but we didn't see…a few of those the ministry expected."

Hermione smiled, relieved.

Harry spoke for a few more minutes, but soon said he needed to head back for the Weasley's, where he was staying, for dinner. Hermione asked him to send her love to Ron and Ginny.

"You should come up tomorrow, Mione." Harry was grinning, clearly happy at the idea. "Ron would love to see you, and perhaps-" Harry blushed.

Hermione laughed, and finished his sentence. "Perhaps I can help you with Ginny?"

Harry nodded, and the two friends hugged briefly as they said their goodbyes. Watching Harry head out the door, Hermione resumed her position as a worker in the establishment.

She wiped down the table the pair had been at for so long, stacking their coffee cups quietly. Suddenly, she stopped.

_"Wait a minute…Why would the Ministry investigate one of their own officers or agents? Unless he wasn't really an agent for them…"_

Hermione dismissed the thought of Draco lying to the back of her mind, where it remained, an uneasy thought that she wished she'd never thought of. But for the time being, Hermione had work to do. And while there was work, she knew she wouldn't have to think about it.

While there was work…

* * *

_"If I never see another coffee bean, it'll be too soon."_

As the clock on the wall behind the counter chimed seven o'clock, Hermione sighed, more than pleased for the day drawing to a close.

_"I suppose I can close up now…"_

She glanced around, making certain that all of her customers were gone. It was a Tuesday, and Hermione knew she never got much business on a weekday anyhow. She crept over to the "OPEN" sign on the front door and flipped it over quickly, making her way over to the main machines that she had to turn off behind the counter.

After a brief effort with a rag on the front counter, Hermione decided to leave the rest of her monotonous cleaning to a quick spell.

_"It's not like anyone's going to see me or anything."_ She thought, drawing out her wand from the confines of her apron pocket.

As soon as the shop was deemed spotless, Hermione made her way back to the troublesome register from earlier that day.

_"Since I've already got my wand at the ready, I'll fix that bloody machine **now**."_

She'd scarcely ducked under the counter when she thought she heard a faint knock at the door. Hermione groaned, wondering who on earth could possibly want coffee badly enough to plague her after hours.

She slid from under the counter, grasping the edge in order to raise herself up. Hermione made sure to slide her wand back into the safety of the pouch on her apron as she braced herself to stand.

"Never mind. I've let myself in."

Hermione jumped up, grazing her shoulder on the edge of the counter as she did so.

"Draco! What are you _doing_ here?"

Hermione's eyes danced with excitement. After all, her husband _never_ visited her "muggle establishment." It was a good sign, considering the rocky morning they'd had.

Draco raised an eyebrow at Hermione carefully, although his smirk came out far kinder than he intended.

"I've come to fetch my wife, of course."

Naturally, Hermione disliked the possessive way he said "my wife," but she let it slide for the moment.

"Business is rather _slow_, isn't it, love?"

Draco studied the empty room before him, shaking his head disapprovingly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Draco, business is fine. I closed shop at seven."

The blond wizard maintained an expression of indifference for a moment. Draco was always careful to keep his emotions in check, making sure any retort he made was the most biting or effective response possible. Turning back to face Hermione suddenly, Draco smiled kindly.

"You know what, Mione?"

Draco's sudden air of excitement forced a smile across Hermione's lips. She loved it when he opened up like this. He was a small boy again, even at the age of 20.

"What?"

"We ought to take a vacation. A week off or so, just you and me."

Hermione laughed softly with amusement. She knew he was only teasing.

"Oh, Draco, you're being silly. How can we _both_ get away from here for an entire week?"

Hermione's husband was not one to be easily deterred. Draco's determination, as she'd found, was intractable.

"_Easy_! You _own_ this place, after all. Besides, I can just ask for a few days off. We never really had our honeymoon, and I'm owed a good bit of time for a vacation."

As much as she hated it, Hermione knew she had to be the rain cloud on her husband's sunny moment. She realized her business wasn't really stable enough for her to go off to some exotic location without worry.

"Draco, I'm certain you know I cannot leave _Fetish's_ on its own for more than a few days, if even _that_ long."

Draco frowned, but he wasn't finished with his campaign yet.

"Oh, Mione. It'll all be perfectly fine. This place isn't worth the effort, in my opinion, but it'll be fine nonetheless."

He realized by Hermione's regretful expression that he was, by no means, winning this argument. _"Time for the theatrics." _Draco sighed, trying to be more persuasive.

"Look, Hermione," he began. "I can't let you waste _our_ time together, especially _here_. I'm only in for a short bit of time as it is, and you'd rather be here, as far from me as you can get?"

Hermione turned away from her husband's pleading face, more than aware that he'd just won the dispute. "_It really isn't hard for him to break me down, is it?_" She resolved to work on her debate technique in the future.

By the time she'd turned back around, Draco was beaming with the confidence of knowing he'd just gotten his way. Hermione snickered.

"Oh don't be so cocky. You look like a white-haired ferret."

Despite her attempt at seeming cross, Hermione melted inwardly at his smile, and was more than willing to allow him to embrace her, which he did. In fact, Draco scooped her up, rather dancingly, and carried her to the door. Hermione laughed, quite cheerily.

As he carried her across the threshold, Hermione slipped from his hold.

"I have to close up, Draco."

"Whatever you say, _Granger_."

Draco's use of her maiden name, with that playful air, sent a shiver up her spine. Hermione knew they'd have a lovely evening at home, no more fights looming over them.

The pair went down the street, arm in arm, until they came to the edge of the small town. There, having ducked behind a rather old building, the pair apparated home, as they were too impatient to walk or fly the additional three or four miles home.

Hermione and Draco never realized they were being watched.

* * *

a/n: there it is… and DON'T be ANGRY…. Tom's not due for another chapter, but I HAVE NOT written him out. He's my ABSOLUTE favorite, especially over Draco, who really is a whiny, pointy ferret. Now… another matter… if you don't LIKE my story, please don't send me thousand word essays letting me know how OOC my characters are, or how irritating it is to read my writing style. Honestly, considering how few times you actually READ about Tom in the books, how could you possible know what he's like? It's not like I sit at my computer, TRYING to irritate people with my "OOC" characters. And my writing style may very well suck, but you know what? I'm NOT trying to get paid for this…and I'm only a junior in high school. I've not actually written any real fiction in a LONG time…this was my first. If it's THAT terrible … I have a suggestion… you MIGHT want to stop READING … get a life, and read someone else's work, who, no doubt, you will belittle and scrutinize to the point of THEM going insane as well. Frankly, if you're off my case, I don't care who all you drive batty.

For all my dedicated readers and reviewers, this ramble of anger and such was NOT for you. I love you all for reading, and not totally giving up on me. Ch. 14 is in the works, thank heavens… and will be out soon. Tom's due to be back either at the end of 14 or the middle of 15... Not sure where I'll break off in the next chapter. Draco doesn't just drop off or act all flat and whiny the rest of the time either, you Draco-Mione fans… I had to give him some dimension. Anyhoo… I'm going to jet out of here. PLEASE review… anyone who has reviewed more than once or maybe at least once, if it's a good 'un will get a big thank you at the end, when I'm not going IB insane.

Keep reading… and reviewing…

lizz


	14. Out of the Frying Pan

DISCLAIMER: Only the plot is mine. I no likey stealing. There, I'm done.

Chapter 14- Out of the Frying Pan

* * *

"When the Lord made the sun, sometimes I wonder if he did so with the _sole intent _of creating a torturous method for waking the world, just so _he_ could have a bit of a laugh every morning."

Hermione grinned as she sipped her coffee. Draco _was_ rather amusingly sarcastic, and ridiculously philosophical, before he'd had his morning tea. Hermione set her cup down on the breakfast table as she rose to fetch her husband's pick-me-up. She knew he'd sulk needlessly for half an hour at that table if she didn't: Draco Malfoy was _not_ a morning person.

"Just when does the Lord lack for humor with _you_ around?" Hermione couldn't resist picking at the sulky blond, who quite resembled a grumpy five-year-old at the moment. She set his tea in front of him cheerily before making her way back to her place, opposite him, at the table.

Draco made no immediate response, save to take a few eager sips from the jade green cup before him. He seemed to regain his poise, and Draco's ordinary frosty air drifted back into his eyes. Hermione picked up the fresh copy of The Daily Prophet, sighing at the headline flashing across the front page.

"Fifteen found dead at Muggle Orphanage in Surrey." Hermione read the caption with a removed voice, and shook her head slowly before reading further. "Draco, it says that these were _all_ children, not a one of them over twelve."

Hermione stopped, and glanced to look for a reaction in her husband, but Draco's body was simply rigid. His face, though not cheerful, was rather blank. Hermione continued.

"The Ministry will only state that they have an investigative team on the case, although they do advise that panic is redundant. This attack mirrors other recent attacks on Muggle establishments, such as two last month…"

As her eyes skimmed the rest of the article, Hermione's voice faded off, and she stopped reading at the summaries of the two most recent attacks. She folded the paper back neatly, and set it back on the table without a sound.

Draco coughed awkwardly, and rose from his seat in a gradual, pointed fashion. "I know you mentioned visiting with the Weasleys today. It seems rather superfluous for me to say it, but I don't plan on attending the get-together. I'll put our affairs in order for our vacation, and I should be back shortly after nightfall. You'll amuse yourself over there for _that _long, I'm certain."

The pale, shirtless man winked at his last statement, and headed for the back stairway in the kitchen. As soon as he'd gone, Hermione stacked his (now empty) teacup in her own, and sent them to the cupboards with a quick spell, cleaning them as they went. She glimpsed over the rest of The Daily Prophet, but found the stories too dull to finish.

Deciding instead on an upstairs excursion, Hermione was certain she would make both Draco and herself late for their engagements. "_With Draco in such a pleasant mood_," she mused, "_I won't be out of here until late this afternoon_." In just a quick flight up the stairs, Hermione reached the bedroom door, and proved herself correct.

* * *

"Ack! Ron_ald_! Watch OUT for my table settings!"

Ginny Weasley glared at her brother, who nearly wrecked her flawless arrangement of silverware, plates, and flora. For Hermione, however, it was quite an amusing display. Ron and Harry were regaling the household with a fairly dramatic rendition of their famous win over Slytherin from the last house match of their seventh year. Ginny remained quite unimpressed with their presentation, though, and made certain to let her klutzy brother know.

"Frankly, Ron, I don't know what you're fussing about. After all, this year's Hufflepuff team is really just about as good, if not better."

Ron rolled his eyes, snickering. "_You're_ just sayin' that as _you're_ the new Charms professor."

Ginny held her head up proudly and smirked. "Of _course_, Ron. Whatever you say."

Hermione interrupted the brother-sister banter with a quick question to Ginny. After all, anything was better than listening to two Weasley siblings going at each other for an hour.

"So, Gin, when do you have to head back to work? Are any of the other professors back, besides Dumbledore?"

Ginny grimaced slightly as she slumped into one of the mismatched, wooden chairs at the dining room table. "Well, Snape and McGonagall are about, I'm certain. As far as heading back, I know that exams are only four months away, by the calendar, but… I suppose, seeing as they sent everyone home due to those attacks, they'll just have to postpone them a bit. I think Dumbledore is basically going to give the school one last check, and then he'll send out the all clear. I figure, two weeks, and then back to those _wonderful_ students and their _shining_ faces."

Just as Ginny managed her final words, a sound like elephants stampeding sounded through the Burrow. Within moments, five more redheads, and one brunette, had joined Hermione and Ginny at the table, including Mr. And Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley was looking especially cheery, as she always did when company was about. Mr. Weasley was too busy reading yet another Muggle novel to properly greet any of the table's occupants. Hermione grinned at the title. _"War and Peace," _she thought._ "Great choice."_

Hermione was seated on one side of the table, on the end. On her right sat Ginny, who was blushing violently next to Harry. Across from Hermione sat the Weasley twins, George and Fred, both of whom were visiting for a few days. Their joke shop was doing quite well, and they couldn't be spared for more than that. Of course, this gave them free reign on playing pranks on the entire household, calling it "research" or, as Fred had told Hermione, "product development and consumer analysis." Hermione could already see Ginny waking up with polka-dotted hair, or Mrs. Weasley being attacked by a batch of animated, agitated laundry.

The twins were reasonably harmless at the moment, though, as they were anxiously awaiting their mother's cooking. "It's been too long, Mum." George complained. "What with work and everything, we've been practically starving."

"That's funny, dear." Mrs. Weasley raised an eyebrow, grinning with mirth. "I hadn't noticed your waistline shrinking much. In fact, all of your pants look to be just the same size in that _mountain_ of dirty laundry you brought home with you."

"Come now, Mum." Fred began reasoning, as he passed along a bowl of some steamy, vegetable and herb concoction Hermione couldn't identify. "The clothes weren't _that_ filthy. I'd have been willing to wear them for another month or two, eh, George?"

The two twins chuckled to themselves, sending their mother in on yet another lecture on _how_ to properly clean their robes, _why_ they should properly clean their robes, and _how often _they should properly clean their robes. It took all of Hermione's inner strength not to burst out laughing at this woman mid-speech. Even if it _weren't_ redundant, Hermione knew every word Mrs. Weasley issued in her sermon was simply going in one ear and out the other.

The meal was proving to be very interesting. Harry and Ginny were trying _so _hard not to make googly eyes at one another that the entire table focused on them for at least fifteen minutes. Fred and George, being themselves, decided it would be rather humorous to enchant Hermione's silverware to scream whenever she drew the utensil near her mouth to take a bite. After about five minutes with a shrieking fork, the pair decided to change it up a bit, causing Hermione's utensils to sing old show tunes instead of screeching. Needless to say, this all warranted a glare from their mother, and a hearty laugh from the rest of the table.

Ron, as Hermione noticed, didn't say much. Every time she'd tried to speak with him, he'd acted as if he had something very urgent to do, and tried to slip away into another room. With that cast about his ankle, it had been very difficult. Hermione knew something was up, but she couldn't ask him right then, in front of everyone. _"Heaven knows, Ron will turn the darkest shade of crimson known to man if I do. I'll just ask Ginny some time before I leave."_

* * *

"I suppose I'd best be on my way, Ginny. I forgot to take inventory yesterday before closing shop, and it _really_ needed to be done last week."

Ginny raised her right eyebrow enquiringly. "But did you not just promise Draco not to set a foot in that shop?"

Hermione shrugged, a guilty smile crossing her lips. "Well…not exactly. I agreed to a vacation, but I never said I wouldn't go in the shop first. Draco said to get my affairs in order, and inventory happens to be one of my affairs. Besides, I'll just jet over there for a half hour or so, and then head straight home. How will he ever know?"

There was a collapse of giggles between the two girls before they made their goodbyes. Hermione gave Ginny a quick hug, and set out for _Fetish's_, not so eager to attack the mound of paperwork awaiting her.

* * *

Ginny slipped back into the Burrow, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She felt the sunset's rays float over her face, almost as if in greeting, as she moved past the window, towards the sitting area.

"That you, Ginny? Mione?"

Ginny smiled at the sound of Ron's voice. She'd been wanting to tell Hermione all day, but couldn't bring herself to do it. After hearing how hard both she and Draco were working to keep their marriage in tact, Ginny just couldn't tell her friend: Ron still loved Hermione.

"It's just me, Ron. Hermione had some business to take care of, so she left."

"Pity." Mrs. Weasley sighed, as she rushed by with a combined stack of dishes and clothing. "She's one of my favorite guests; so clean, so polite."

Mrs. Weasley made a pointed look at Fred, who was currently sitting at the dining table, trying to put together yet _another_ gadget for the twins' store. He'd accumulated quite a mess.

"You could all learn a bit from her, I'd say." With that, the rather vibrant woman whisked back up the stairway.

George stood up from the couch and went to join his brother at the table. "She's not all wrong, eh, Fred?"

Fred placed his work down, grinning mischievously. He was already on the same wavelength with George on _this_ topic. "Mum's right. I'd **_love _**to learn a bit from dear ol' Mione…anything she's willing to teach."

The pair laughed heartily, joking about the very "attractive" Hermione. In reality, they were just working their best at unnerving Ron. Clearly, the hooligans were quite successful, as their younger brother was turning a notorious shade of red, outdoing the copper of his hair.

"I'd really appreciate it if you two could lay off of Mione." From her brother's slouched position, Ginny couldn't tell if Ron was smiling from embarrassment, or simply frowning in distaste. Either way, George and Fred were scarcely finished with their taunt. George was first to rejoin Ron on the couch with a sudden plop.

"Aw, come on Ronnie. That's the problem." George smirked, and Fred dropped down on Ron's left, so the two had him cornered.

"Really, now. We can't lay _off_ of her if we can't get _on_ her."

That was it. Ron swung at each of the chuckling twins, attempting to hobble after them as they ran towards the stair. Out of breath from the effort of dragging his cast, Ron had to give up on the first step, and hung to the handrail like a dear friend.

More than anything, Ginny hated that cast around Ron's lower leg. The wound from the "event" she'd heard about was clearly a cursed wound, as nothing, even magic, seemed to heal it much. As it was, Ron was told to treat it mostly just by wearing the long, white cast. _That_ was proving to be more than enough of a nuisance _without_ any other spells to complicate things.

Ginny stepped over to him. "It's alright, Ron. They just enjoy being complete mules."

"I know." Ron sighed. "But bloody Hell, Ginny. I can't take it anymore. I really…care about that girl, even if we're only buds. I know she's basically as far out of my reach as she can be, but that's how it is. You know Lavender, right?"

Ginny nodded, smiling sympathetically. Ron continued. "Well, that girl keeps owling me, but I don't really have much to reply with. I know she's waiting for me to call on her or something, and…well, I know I should, if you catch my meaning. She's a decent woman, and she's interested in me, so I should just go for it. But…"

Ginny placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, and the two sat down together on the step. "But…you still have it bad for Hermione?"

Ron nodded, and he let his head droop. "The worst part, Gin, is that I _know_ that Malfoy scum is faking with her. He's got to be! We've been looking into his goings-on, Gin. He's right in the thick of all this dark mess, even if he isn't the ringleader, and Hermione can't know because of this damn Ministry business. It's all hush-hush, and she's going to get hurt." Ron looked up at Ginny with a surprisingly irate glance.

Ginny smiled softly, but reassuringly. "Ron, this is _Hermione_ we're talking about. She can take care of herself. I know it."

* * *

"If I put this total in column A-17...no, wait a tick…that's not right." Hermione found herself thinking out loud with her inventory sheets. For some reason, they were especially confusing tonight, and most of that she was attributing to sleep deprivation.

With a sigh, Hermione dropped the forms into her lap, as she leaned back against the stock room's concrete wall. _"I'll just rest my eyes for a moment. Then, back to filing and counting."_ For a moment, all was a blissful, blurry bit of relaxation.

_CRASH!_ A sudden noise forced Hermione to jump awake. "_Did I hear glass breaking?_" Hermione jolted up from her crouched position, leaning out of the light of the open doorway, hoping whoever was causing the ruckus wouldn't see her. From the strange flashes of light, Hermione could make out that it was a large group, and they had torches. _"But who has torches with green flames?"_

Hermione slipped out of the backroom carefully, making certain that every step she took was unseen and unheard. _"They smashed my door in!"_ Thinking herself out of harm's way, she knelt down to pick up some of the scattered glass. The "gang" seemed to have moved on. _"I wonder who would have done this…"_

Glancing up at the wall behind the service counter, Hermione cringed, and she felt that her heart had stopped. The wall, stained in what Hermione had to assume was blood, read, "Muggle Filth Shall Be Burned From the Earth." The quivering woman shook her head and, despite an inward struggle, she was unable to refrain from letting loose a few tears.

"_Why?_ Why here?" Hermione pondered her sorrow out loud.

"Because, you're no better than this filth you serve."

Hermione cringed at the all-too-familiar tone of ice and pure malice. _Lucius Malfoy!_ Hermione was alone with Lucius Malfoy, and no real defense. She felt along her jeans pocket for her wand, very slowly.

Not slowly enough. "_Accio wand_!" With two words, Lucius' strong voice commanded Hermione's wand from her very hand. Hermione sensed raw anger building inside of her. She wished for fire to come from her hands, for lightening to shoot from her eyes. Hermione wanted to kill Lucius, yes, but more just to make him suffer.

"Why, madam, I do believe you might have some power left in you. It's good to see that sort of rage and raw force, even in a lowly _woman_ like you."

Hermione's mind suddenly seemed to disconnect from her body. She felt nothing, but saw everything happening as if in slow motion. A light suddenly flashed around her, and she could have sworn she heard the bricks of the building quaking.

"**_No_!** **What are you doing, fool! You'll kill us _both_!**" She was certain she heard shouts from Lucius, but Hermione couldn't tell anymore. All she felt was power, and all she saw was a red-tinged, white light around her. Out of the blue, she felt a sudden sting of pain knocking into her temple. The light faded, and all she saw was a dark red. Hermione felt herself crumple to the ground, which felt like a pile of rubble and stone.

"Ahhh…" She moaned, and the sudden sense of pain shooting through her, along with an unnatural fatigue, forced her to shut her eyes. Hermione made no effort at retaining her consciousness, and all thoughts ceased.

* * *

a/n: well, I don't know what to do with my plot now… it's getting more and more twisted and dull. I'm doing my best, tho… sorry for such a late update.

Any review is better than none,

Love, the badger on the run,

lizz


	15. From Any Angle

DISCLAIMER: No, I don't own anyone or anything or any location from Harry Potter, and I don't want to…. If I DID own the rights, Dumbledore wouldn't be dead right now, making my fic more believable.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 15

"Darn it!"

Ginny Weasley rubbed her left shin gingerly, where it was now bright red, more than likely bruised, from a not-so-graceful attempt at snatching one of Fred's shirts from the stair rail. Ginny didn't mind having her brothers around; the house was lively, practically festive, and no one found themselves on Mrs. Weasley's bad side. However, Ginny was getting positively fed up with the knee-high mess of clothing up in the bedrooms, not to mention the other dysfunctional, putrid, and sullied property strewn all about the house.

"_After all_," she reflected, "_I'm their sister, not their personal maid. They ought to pay me for doing all this_."

Having huffily tossed her armload of junk into its respective home, the youngest Weasley plopped into a comfy armchair in the sitting room. She let her eyelids droop to a close, and felt herself ready for a catnap as she basked in the morning sunlight. Wishful thinking.

"MUM! Have you seen my sweater?"

Ginny smirked. George was frantically searching for his green sweater, the same one Ginny had just tossed into a laundry hamper. Why he wanted it, she couldn't guess, because the offensive shirt reeked of old cheese and mothballs.

"No, dear, but do throw something on, so you can come down to breakfast!" The announcement of "breakfast" brought forth a sudden thundering of male footsteps, and Ginny could have sworn she was on an African plain, instead of her simple, otherwise cozy household.

A moment later, most of the Weasley household was seated around the table, save Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. Mrs. Weasley turned her head in Ginny's direction, beckoning her youngest to the table, as she set down a piping hot bowl of porridge.

"Ginny, dear, aren't you hungry?" "No, Mum, I'm fine. I need to make a call." With that Ginny rose to seek out the phone. The family so rarely used such a Muggle device, but Ginny wanted to talk to Hermione, and she knew Mione still preferred the telephone. In fact, Hermione told Ginny she had to beg Draco to allow the silly contraption in the mansion.

_Brrrring! Brrrring!_ Ginny checked the wrinkly paper in hand once more, making certain she had the correct number. The phone continued to ring, and Ginny set it back on the receiver by the eleventh toll. After trying once more, the youngest Weasley sighed with relief as she heard someone pick up on the other end. At hearing the voice, her relief faltered.

"Hello?" The voice was deep and annoyed, and it took Ginny only an instant to guess to whom it belonged.

"Draco?" Ginny was afraid he wouldn't know her.

"Ginny? Why are you calling here?" Ginny sighed. At least the man knew her voice.

"I was hoping to speak with Hermione, Draco...if you have no objection."

There was a moment of awkward silence. Ginny assumed Draco was wanting to tell her to shove off, seeing as the couple was supposed to be leaving for their vacation some time that day. When Draco finally replied, Ginny didn't catch the earful of profanity she'd expected, but a quick question, in a voice softer than any Ginny had heard from Draco Malfoy before.

"What do you mean, Ginny?" The young woman raised an eyebrow. Certainly it wasn't that complicated: she wanted to talk to Hermione.

"Hermione visited yesterday, and I wanted to make sure she was alright when she got home." Again, there was an uncomfortable pause. Ginny suddenly felt her stomach lurch, as her heart rose up into her throat. Something wasn't right.

"Draco," she began, stammering. "What's wrong?"

---------------------------------------------------------------

"Look, Ron. It's not like I'm asking you to tap into the Ministry's files, relating every blasted detail from every blasted case to me. I just want to know what the hell happened last night in that village."

Ginny was practically seething. During the four hours since her conversation with Draco earlier, she'd discovered that not only had Hermione not come home the previous night, but that she had also vanished without any detectable trace.

No detectable trace, aside from the pile of rubble and debris where Hermione's coffee shop once stood. From what Ginny had managed to get out of Ron and Harry, she knew all too well how _that _had come about. "_Deatheaters_," Harry had said sardonically, though with a grave expression, "_lack subtlety_."

Now, as she paced back and forth across the narrow living room of the Burrow, Ginny was trying to get more information out of the two aurors, without much success.

"You don't understand, Sis. I simply don't know that much more. All I know is that it was a full blown attack, and we've got a great many Muggle casualties to cover up now."

Ron's voice reflected the same distance vaguely shown in his eyes. When Ginny had first mentioned Hermione's not being home earlier, Ron had started shaking. A moment later, Harry strode into the room with the paper, relaying the grave news about the string of Muggle village attacks the night before. Ron, of course, had already seen the headline, but originally assumed nothing was wrong with Hermione, who was supposedly safe, at home with her husband.

Ever since that moment, Ron had become very matter-of-fact in his use of speech, careful not to relay too much emotion. Ginny knew better, though, and was trying hard to get to that raw, fiery nature beneath the practiced diplomacy Ron had learned as an auror. She needed the brother she knew, the man who let no one and nothing hurt someone he cared for. _That_ was the Ron who would get things moving

"**Ronald Weasley**," she began, the anger in her voice baiting at him. "If you think I'm going to buy, for one instant, that you care more about the multitude of 'Muggle casualties' than about the one witch who we all know is missing, you're full of badger manure. You know, I'm surprised at how you can just STAND THERE, not even letting yourself LOOK dismayed, when this is one of your BEST friends. She could be DEAD, Ron."

Needless to say, Ginny hit the right nerve. Even Harry had to smirk and shake his head; Ron was still Ron, and there were just some reactions he'd never grow out of.

"The problem, Gin, is how we're going to find her." Harry, always the practical counterpart, was quickly pointing out a very important fact about the situation: as aurors, Harry and Ron were really the only ones who could access the right information, and even THEY couldn't just go gallivanting off to save Hermione.

"I can go Dumbledore, but even if we know her exact location, we can't risk the whole Wizarding World just to sneak in and ATTEMPT a rescue for one witch. Hermione, if she's with any of the usual suspects, is too far gone for one of our little escapades to help."

The beads of sweat forming on Harry's brow glistened, and Ginny realized he was concentrating to the point where it must be painful. "Harry…don't tell me we're just going to sit here and…"

The messy, black-haired man looked into her face suddenly, and the twin pairs of green eyes locked in a flash. Harry held his gaze with Ginny for only a moment, before turning away. With a nonchalant flick of his hand, Harry laughed to himself, murmuring a sarcastic remark to the pair behind him.

"Since when did we just sit around, anyway?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You know, Hermione, I rather think I like having you here, all to myself."

Lucius Malfoy was back again, making one more of his taunting visits to Hermione's "cell." Actually, the cell was really a rather nice room, aside from the whole "no windows or fireplace" thing. Hermione gathered from the décor that she must be somewhere within one of the many Malfoy residences, but she had no idea which.

Her room contained a full length, overly gilded mirror with snake's scale detailing, set directly across from a mahogany desk, also excessively ornate. There was lovely stationary strewn across a corner of the desk, Hermione noted, but it wasn't as though she was being allowed to write to anyone. The bed had a flowing, golden, sheer canopy reigning over it like an overbearing robe on the shoulders of an uncertain monarch. The king size mattresses were stuffed with what were, more than likely, only the best down feathers, and the billowing, deep scarlet comforter on top was edged with gold stitching. Even the pillows were lined in excessive velvets of matching reds and golds.

Lucius had decorated the "cell," and Hermione knew it. She was certain he'd picked the Gryffindor colors to mock her. And, of course, Hermione knew he enjoyed how uncomfortable it made her, residing in such ridiculously luxurious quarters.

"All to yourself? So there's no one else here?"

Hermione's casual attempt to weed information out of Lucius received naught but a cruel snigger. From his position by the heavy wooden door, (of course, without a handle) the elegant, platinum haired man sauntered over to where the young woman sat, indignant, on the edge of the bed.

Expecting an icy touch, Hermione tensed as Lucius reached to brush the curls from her face. His hand was surprisingly warm, and the young woman found herself lost in the ice-blue eyes peering down at her. Staring into the eerie orbs, Hermione thought she saw Draco's same uneasy stare. The same threatening, but pleading stare.

"Draco…" Hermione wasn't sure if she had said the name aloud at first, but the sudden look of irritation crossing Lucius' face assured her she had.

"You know," the elegant man began, as he strode over to check his flawless reflection in the mirror. " I could offer you much more than any of those silly suitors of yours, Hermione."

Hermione felt as though her eyes couldn't open any wider. "_Is he **really** trying to…?_"

Interrupting her thoughts, Lucius' proposition continued. "Look, woman. I know about you and your powers. I find them intriguing enough, yes, but I'm not after them the same way the Dark Lord is. His original plan has always been, and _**always** _will be, to take them from you in such a manner as you will be left lifeless. I, on the other hand, am willing to offer you one chance. One chance, Hermione, before I drag your cursed body to him, abused and battered (for he would have you no other way), and let him rob you of your life."

Hermione shivered, but held her stony gaze up to the snake before her. Lucius was only beginning his little tirade, and after having refashioned his hair for a third time, the vain man turned to face all of his attention on the young and beautiful creature before him.

_"I think I see what my son finds so seductive about this girl. The power her resentful timidity yields is simply intoxicating."_ The golden man with cruel eyes concentrated on forcing Hermione's attention on him. He was impatient with his audiences: he wanted all eyes and thoughts on him, and him alone.

"If you think I won't drag you there, darling, you're quite mistaken. I'd find you just as attractive dead as I do alive…perhaps even more so, almost like a tragic, untouchable sort of loveliness that all the world admires."

The odd look in Lucius eyes reflected a hunger, a sick and twisted passion that Hermione couldn't ignore. Her hands held fast to the blanket beneath her, but she moved not at all, for fear that the sinister serpent might actually pounce on her if she did more than breathe. She felt her chest rising slightly faster with every breath, and a sickening feeling raced through her as she realized that Lucius had taken notice, and it was clearly a turn-on for him.

"Wha-" Hermione's voice faltered, and she began again quickly. "What kind of chance are you offering, you ill-mannered, perverted bastard?"

Again, the golden-haired, sinister Adonis smirked at the woman before him, as he shed his deep emerald waistcoat to the floor. "Pet names already? I must say, I'm touched."

As Lucius oiled his way onto the mattress beside her, Hermione cringed and held her breath. _"Let him make his point, and it's over. Let him just offer, and it's over."_ She reassured herself, shutting her eyes to block out his image.

"I'm offering simply this: serve me, and I'll simply harness your powers through my own, keeping you alive and me, basking in glory. At the very least, I'll be able to rid our society of that abominable leader I have to bow down to. He's a fool, wasting life and energy the way he does…"

Hermione winced. "_It's worse than I thought. He's using me to stage an overthrow…_"

The elder Malfoy suddenly seemed to realize where his ramble was going, and how his audience was becoming all too aware of his intentions. Hermione had risen from the bed, in a dreadfully cautious manner, but her scheming captor followed quickly, jumping up from his former stance on the bedside. Within a mere three strides, he had Hermione cornered.

"I can't serve you, Mr. Malfoy. I have too much of me left in this body for that. Besides, I don't think I like what all you're implying that I-"

Hermione's defense was silenced by a finger on her lips, as Lucius closed the distance between them so that not an inch existed between their faces. "Shh, darling. All I am asking of you is to be what you are already."

Hermione felt a hand graze its way along her hip, moving dangerously close to touching her indecently. Another, she felt snaking around to the small of her back, so that now Lucius was holding her as a possession. "I just want you to be my little, unfaithful whore."

A stinging slap left a small, red palm print across the austere face of Hermione's captor. Hermione darted out of his embrace, making an instinctive run for the door to escape his wrath.

"_Confound it all_." Without a door handle or wand, she was trapped. Trapped in a room with a very much irate Malfoy, who was presently releasing a string of curses that would force a sailor to blush.

Lucius stormed over to Hermione, who was already bracing herself for a strike. True to form, Lucius raised his hand high, like a pitcher winding for a throw, and nearly brought it down to repay Hermione for her earlier strike.

"How DARE you reach out and strike at me. I'll show YOU what that sort of thing warrants around he----AHH!"

Lucius' words were cut short by his own cry of anguish. Hermione glanced up from her crouched position by the door, and realized suddenly why the man before her was incapacitated. The skull marking, the Dark Mark, on Lucius' arm was evidently burning, a sign that he was being summoned.

"We're not finished here, Madam." Lucius practically spat his parting phrase for Hermione before he commanded the door to open. As he slipped out, Hermione could hear his muttering.

"It is not as though I were a even a mile away. He's only a few bloody floors above me….Had to fucking summon me, like some sort of trained house elf…"

The curly haired woman turned away from door slowly, taking in all that she'd just managed to discern from Lucius' incensed mutterings. Hermione crept over to the mirror, looking at herself for a mere moment, and slipped back to the desk area.

Taking a few sheets from the small stack on the left end, she began to write out a few random words as they popped into her mind. It usually helped her to write or doodle as she thought.

"_Only a few floors up…_" She paused and stared back at the doorway for a few minutes, not even allowing her eyes to focus. "_He's only a few floors away from me, right now…at this very instant. I wonder if he can even sense that I'm here_."

Voldemort, or some form of him, was there, as Hermione had could presume from Lucius' words. And if he was there, with even only a fragment of the connection they'd once shared, Hermione knew he'd be able to hear her calling to him with her mind.

"_Then again_," she realized swiftly, "_I'm not too certain that he doesn't already know I'm here. Lucius may just be offering me 'one chance' as a joke, because he's already told Voldemort, I mean. But, you know…I might still be able to get him to help me, for just a moment, if I can reach him. Surely there's enough humanity left in him to care if I…if I die_."

Not allowing herself to dwell on her last line of thought, Hermione tried to reach out to her ex-lover, almost completely sure that she'd be unable to. But, surprisingly enough, she could feel his presence, although it was much like a weak pulse, compared to its usual clarity and strength.

"_He's not well_." she reasoned, feeling oddly guilty and concerned. "I almost wish I could go to him and see what's wrong." As Hermione tried to call to him with her mind, she felt a strange, unfamiliar pain wash over her, and a sharp headache followed. "_Lucius has separated us, somehow_."

Hermione gritted her teeth, but she knew it made no difference. She had other ways of getting help, with or without Lucius' permission. This time, she searched long and hard, trying to find another man entirely. Hermione knew this man would hear her plea, and nothing would stop him.

"_Draco…please…Draco, I don't know where I am. Please…_" Like a homing signal, Hermione sent out her thoughts and feelings directly to her husband. "_He'll come as fast as the winds can carry him_."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Malfoy? Why didn't you come sooner?"

A light-haired man bows reverently, hiding his sneer from the young man before him.

"I'm sorry, my lord, but I was detained. You asked that I look into those Aurors' investigations…"

"I'm AWARE of what I ordered of you. I did NOT call you here for a review of my commands."

The platinum head nods, falsely apologetic. "I apologize,…Master."

The dark, shadowy figure of the younger man, who clings desperately to the arms of his chair for strength, motions weakly towards a curtain. A young man steps out dutifully from deep within the shadows, revealing a full head of golden-platinum hair, and two frosty, slate-blue eyes, stony and hard…without any emotion or thought dancing in them.

"Your son is here, Malfoy. And I'm afraid he's brought some news."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: Okay, you guys. Let's all say YAY! Yes, Tom's back, and yes I plan on having a heck of a lot more of him coming up in chapter sixteen. However, if you were overly attached to mushy Tom Riddle, you might not like him quite so much. For at least a good few chapters to come, he's not all "lovey dovey" …because that was dumb of me to force him to seem that way in the first place. Yeah, and don't go all flamey on me about the Lucius thing…it works later on, trust me… and NO, nothing will happen further between him and Mione…at least not to this really sick extent or anything.

Yes, so …. I plan on updating now that I have redirected a few things…but school may narrow it down. I got into a creative writing class, though, so maybe the teacher will let me work on this. It's creative, ne?

Anyhoos…PLEASE review, and I'll keep writing. BIG thanks to all my reviewers who keep faith that I'll keep writing. This chappie's dedicated to you.

liz


	16. Anticipation Rising

DISCLAIMER: The char's and locations don't belong to me...just the plot.

* * *

Chapter 16

"First and foremost, Miss Weasley, I must say that you are _completely_ disobeying the common laws set by the Ministry of Magic by coming to me and requesting aid without reporting Hermione's disappearance to the proper authorities first…or, for that matter, reporting them at all, as I am certain you do not _intend_ to contact said authorities."

Nearly two days had passed since Ginny had first learned that her best friend was missing. After contemplating several courses of action with Ron and Harry, the trio owled their most sovereign mentor, Albus Dumbledore, for guidance. Within a few hours, the magnanimous wizard had arrived, along with a few of his most trusted colleagues. Harry and Ron seemed to immediately regain confidence in their abilities to handle the situation, especially at the familiar face of Professor McGonagall, who almost always retained her cool, controlled demeanor in the face of worrisome chaos.

Now, as the group sat gathered around Professor Dumbledore, Ginny was certain things would get moving. _"I wish he wouldn't rebuke me for asking him to come, though." _she huffed inwardly.

Albus smiled at her warmly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "However, Miss Weasley…I am quite sure that you made the right decision in doing so. Too many double agents have turned up lately, from what I've been hearing, and we'd all do well to keep that in mind as we plan whatever course of action we are to take. Telling one wrong person could prove a fatal move, never mind a bothersome one."

Harry stood from his crouched position by the fireplace. "Sir, what resources do we have that we can trust, then? We risk certain failure if we rely only on our petty energies. For, unless I am mistaken, we are taking on a practical army, none too weak or slow."

The elderly wizard nodded, but retained an almost pleasant manner in his speech when he replied. "Harry, you have underestimated both yourself and this group. There are several others that can come to our assistance, and all of them are completely dependable."

Here, Professor Dumbledore summoned a parchment from midair, and began ticking off names as he waved his hand. "You all recall Mr. Neville Longbottom, unless I am gravely mistaken, and how your former classmate went off to study some herbology in the darker regions of Romania and Kazakhstan? He has already been owled, and I have good reason to believe he'll promptly offer his services, along with all of his associates'. And then there are the trustworthy aurors-"

Ginny had to interrupt, as an abrupt realization hit her. "Professor, I must ask you a question."

Albus promptly ceased his dissertation, and stood ready for his former pupil's inquiry. "Yes, Ginny?"

The youngest Weasley hesitated, almost too fearful for the answer she might get.

"Professor Dumbledore. You mentioned not letting on about Hermione to anyone that isn't trustworthy. I'm afraid we've got a problem, then, because of…well, a certain phone conversation that took place a few days ago."

Ron, from across the room, blanched, and Harry gasped audibly. They both looked to Ginny, then back to Dumbledore quickly, with inexcusable panic in their eyes.

"Draco, sir. We've proof of his betraying the Ministry, now. And the first person to actually _know_ about Mione's missing was Draco, because of Ginny trying to telephone Mione that first day."

Harry looked to his favorite mentor with a questioning glance. Albus, however, did not seem phased.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley…Did either or any of you consider that, perhaps, Mr. Malfoy was already aware of his 'missing' wife?"

* * *

"_Okay…just one more time_."

Hermione was making repeated attempts to contact someone, _anyone_, using her telepathy. Suffice it to say, they weren't working. The veins right around the woman's temples were beginning to show as slightly bulging, blue branches, and a few beads of sweat were forming along her brow.

"_This is ludicrous. Lucius has completely guarded this room, and I can't get a message out for **anything**_."

Giving up with a heavy sigh, Hermione meandered over to the ornate desk area from her nearby, crouched position by the adjacent wall. Determined not to wear herself out, or relinquish all hope of escape, she began to fidget with a petite, black pen. She twirled it around, making circular doodles on the pricey parchment in front of her.

Hermione snickered, softly. "_I can just imagine ol' Lucius' face, looking at my waste of his posh trinkets_."

The thought of the eldest Malfoy, her captor, sent chills up her spine. Hermione could still see that lustful, eerie stare in her mind. As she shivered from the memory, she forgot her grip on the pen, and it fell from her hand quickly.

There was no sound of it hitting the table, and Hermione thought at first she must have been losing her hearing, or that the lovely writing implement had simple missed the desktop, hitting the soft carpet instead. However, upon closer inspection of the floor, she found quickly that there was no pen to be found.

"_I'm losing my mind…AND writing utensils_."

As she rose back over the desk, Hermione glanced down at the parchment. She gasped, quite audibly, at the sight before her eyes. "What in the name of Azkaban!"

There, still moving in a circular pattern, was the pen. It was completely animate, making Hermione's doodles more and more elaborate with its every stroke. After only a few seconds, Hermione realized that _she_ had done it, subconsciously, and that thought alone cheered her so much she couldn't sit back down.

"_Those powers! I thought I'd never live to see them be of any use_."

Now, the only issue became her exact plan. Hermione didn't want to risk flubbing it up, because she knew she'd only get one window of opportunity, one time to use her powers without Lucius suspecting it, before she'd be trapped again.

Staring at the door, Hermione grinned. It was a wooden door. Aside from the missing handle, it was a normal, fully functional door. Lucius had clearly assumed that, given as she had no wand, Hermione was going to be helpless.

"_Critical error, Mr. Malfoy_."

* * *

a/n: Sorry it took so long... between working, school, and some computer problems... alas, it has taken forever to edit and such... Chapter seventeen is with the beta right NOW... I'll post tomorrow, if I can.

Yay... and sorry, Tom isn't back until chapter seventeen and eighteen... I fibbed in my last note.

Lizz


	17. Breath Before the Storm

DISCLAIMER: I own naught but the plot. Okay?

* * *

Chapter 17

"Have you got everything yet, Ron?"

Harry was holding onto the frame of a rickety wooden ladder, trying frantically to steady the wobbly thing as Ron stepped up onto the tenth rung. The redhead was too busy fishing around in the late Grangers' attic (which was, basically, a crawl space) to notice the precarious position he was in.

"Ron...careful..."

But, of course, Harry's friend paid no heed. "Just a minute...I just found a pile of something...". The ladder shook a little harder, and Harry braced himself for the inevitable.

"Aha! I think I've got-aaaaaaAHHH!"

And in a clumsy act more than worthy of a Weasley, Ron lost his footing, and slid down the entire length of the ladder. As his friend fell, Harry lost his hold of the splintered wood, and ended up a cushion for the sprawled redhead: Ron landed on Harry, and the two hit the ground in a noisy heap.

"Do you think, Harry, ...just _maybe_...that we could do things in the NOT-so-Muggle way? If it weren't for your insisting on that ruddy ladder, we wouldn't be spraining our ankles, breaking our toes, and-"

Ron's rant was interrupted, as Harry shifted under the weight of man on top of him. With a quick "thump," Ron found himself alone on the cold wooden floor of Hermione's old bedroom, as Harry slipped out from under him.

"I didn't say, '_use the ladder_.' I said '_no magic_'." The black-haired wizard stressed a calm expression, afraid the nosy neighbors might become wise to the pair of house invaders and their antics.

Ron, now quite flushed, remained unimpressed.

"Harry Potter, that is an absolute load of bull, and you know it. As if there were any **other** non-magical way **BUT** that stupid ladder to get at that attic."

Harry simply shook his head, knowing better than to argue with the immovable, irrational, and completely quarrelsome Ronald Weasley. He glanced, instead, back towards the hole in the ceiling, and decided to get the conversation back on track.

"Ron, we _have_ to find it."

The flushed man sighed. "Yeah, Harry, I know. Dumbledore only went on about that diary for an eternity."

Harry thought back to earlier that morning, when Dumbledore had addressed the "team" about each of their duties in their "course of action." Despite her pleas, he'd given Ginny more of a paperwork and management position at their headquarters, which was to be the Burrow. Neville Longbottom was to assist in research and preparation for any plant wizardry that might prove useful. About a dozen others were present, and each person was assigned some spell research or physical preparation of some kind.

Harry and Ron, on the other hand, had been taken aside by their old professor. His instructions were given with a hushed tone, but very little brevity. Harry remembered a bit of the conversation.

_"The diary, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, will be a great aid to us. It belonged to Hermione years and years ago... I'm certain she mentioned her other life to you two. At any rate, it contains certain information, specific details, that might give us some insight to both how we may exploit our enemy's weaknesses, and how best to help Hermione. I gave the diary to the Grangers, just for safekeeping, until the day Hermione might need it. I had hoped this day would never come."_

Harry was shaken from his memory of Professor Dumbledore's sadglance by the sound of Ron, who was making even more of a mess of the ceiling. He was trying to jump up to the edge of the hole in the ceiling, this time using Hermione's old bed as a trampoline.

"RON!" Harry shouted, just as Ron snatched something small and rectangular from the jagged edge of the ruined attic entry. At the sound of his friend's shout, however, the redhead jolted back, taking more of the ceiling's plaster down with him as he landed on the bed with a bouncy "_thwomp_."

"Way to go, Weasley. Take down the **rest** of the house."

Ron smirked. "I might just, Potter. Check this out."

Harry walked over to Ron, who was handing him the small thing he'd snatched from the mutilated attic opening: a thin, soft, brown leather journal. Ron's voice approached reverent as he questioned his discovery.

"Harry...you don't think it's...? I mean, did she really write in this...?"

The shaggy haired man shrugged, and gingerly flipped open the cover. The pages were browning with age, but the careful penmanship that gently curled and swerved to compliment the light lines gave away the owner, even without a name penned in the front.

"Yes." He barely let out the word, as he was already concentrating on finding the last entry. Harry knew he should really rush the book back to Dumbledore, but he just had to know what had happened.

"Harry, you know we probably shouldn't be peeking into her private"

But Harry just drowned out his friend, as he found the last entry and began to read. After a mere two minutes, Ron noticed Harry's eyes widen, and he grabbed the journal from his friend to read whatever had jarred him so.

Harry stood before Ron had finished, took back the diary, and turned to his friend quickly. Ron was worried at the removed tone Harry spoke in.

"We're going back to the Burrow. _Now_."

* * *

The door was finally quaking. Ever since the experience with the pen, Hermione realized she could use her telekinesis to help move the door that held her prisoner. And so, after pushing herself to the point of severe, migraine-like shots of pain, she finally managed to get the wooden contraption to budge. Not open, of course, but the young woman was more than thankful for the mere shaking she'd induced.

"_Now, if only I can channel it a **bit** more_..." she thought, and as she sucked in one last breath, Hermione felt a will so strong course through her, all the way from her toes and up through her curls, and she couldn't contain it. Suddenly, and rather sloppily, the door swung open.

Hermione gasped, lunging to catch the door's edge before a loud _slam _could follow.

_"I've **got** to work on this. All I need is old Lucius figuring out that I can channel my powers now."_

With a sigh of relief, Hermione crept nearer to the open doorway, hesitant to enter the dreary darkness of the stone tunnel on the other side. She poked her head out guardedly, her eyes darting around to spot any guards, servants, house elves, or...worse yet...Lucius. Having found no one in sight, the young woman slipped out, carefully closing the door behind her so that naught but a slim crack of light slipped out into the stone corridor; she was afraid she might encounter someone (or some_thing_) unpleasant, and not be able to get back to that small refuge.

"_I guess Malfoy assumed his spells would be enough. Thank God for small miracles like Lucius' oversight._"

It wasn't an especially long walk to the end of the corridor from where Hermione's "cell" had been. The sconces from the wall bore torches that gave little light, but from what Hermione could make out, the end of the tunnel was about seventy or so feet in front of her. In the arched alcove at the end, a dark stairway twisted up toward some room that clearly had enough light to cast shadows below. Hermione reached it quickly, and ran up the steps as nimbly and quietly as she could.

Sticking her head out ever so cautiously, Hermione felt her heart stop at the sight before her.

All around her was a deep blue, a true sapphire. The room was so large that Hermione couldn't be sure of what exactly was making it that enchanting color: the dim light through some cobalt glass somewhere, or the deep blue drapery of various material that hung all around. Taking only one step, Hermione's bare foot took in the feel of cold, polished marble. Glancing down, she found it to be a black marble, so cold and distant to both the sight and tough, she was momentarily mesmerized by it. It pulled at her darkest dreams and desires.

"_This room_," Hermione mused, "_is oblivion. But, oddly, I feel...I don't know...it makes me feel something; something I've forgotten_."

There were several columns around the room, attributing to the stately, reverent air of the incredibly high ceiling. Hermione noticed a chair, dark and tall, on a raised platform at the far end of the room. An translucent awning of indigo and azure hung over it, and gave it such a regal look that Hermione realized it to be a throne.

"_It must be T-, well, Volde-,...the Dark Lord's place for assemblies here_."

Hermione glanced about once more, but nothing caught her eye. "_I suppose I'll have to find my way out of **here** now._"

But no sooner had she taken one step, than she heard the familiar tapping sound of a cane, and the smart clicking sound of two boots distantly making their way to this grand room. Hermione's heart caught in her throat, and she darted behind a nearby curtain. As she tried to hide herself within the drapery, behind a large column, she heard more footsteps.

It wasn't just Lucius, with his proud stride, coming, but others. From the sounds she could make out, Hermione knew at least four others were with him.

A sudden pang, sharp and icy, slipped through her mind and heart. She sensed...and was careful not to _be_ sensed. As best as she could, Hermione guarded her mind. The men were in the room now, and she knew, somehow, that shewas probablybetter off in that room below. Lucius was nothing compared with this.

The Dark Lord was holding a council, and Hermione was trapped.

* * *

a/n: yeah, it's taken forever. I'm REALLY sorry. Please read and forgive. The next chappies have quite a bit of action and motion to execute, so... maybe they'll make up for all of this? love ya's

lizz


	18. Deception Thickens

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANYTHING LIKE IT… and that hasn't changed in the months it's been since I last posted. gomenasai

* * *

Chapter 18

* * *

"Lucius, I do not care **WHY** your legion lost track of those damned Aurors. The fact is, you made certain to catch their attention on this last set of raids, and by allowing them to escape, you've delayed us **THAT MUCH _MORE_!**" 

Hermione cringed at the sound of a very irate, practically inhuman voice: whatever was left of Tom Marvolo Riddle. This slight twinge in her muscles was the only movement she'd dared to make in the last hour, even with the protection of the thick, marble column to conceal her. This was no tea party: the clientele on the other side of her refuge were the most ruthless, corrupt wizards she'd ever known.

This was an assembly of Death Eaters, and an emergency one at that. Hermione had already identified the voices of Severus Snape, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Lucius Malfoy. Of course, Hermione was certain the other usual suspects were groveling somewhere in the room, as she'd definitely picked up on the distinctive whimpering of Peter Pettigrew, as well as the mindless banter of the elder Goyle.

"_If this doesn't end soon, I think I might just scream and be done with it. How a dark lord could ever manage to get ANYTHING done with **these** buffoons is beyond me…"_

Instantly, Hermione resented herself for the thought. Unless it was somehow connected to a brilliant escape plan, she knew it was a waste of energy to care about the efficiency of her enemies. _"Just another example of how Draco's right: I AM way too analytical of life in general."_

Feeling somewhat more confident in her hiding place, Hermione decided to peek around the column's round edge. There, of course, was the austere, golden Lucius Malfoy, cowering with as much pride as possible before the Dark Lord. Even _he_ knew when to appear humble. "But, my Lord, I didn't-"

"CRUCIO!" Voldemort had never been merciful or understanding before, and from the sound of Lucius' sharp cry, Hermione surmised that little had changed. She winced repeatedly, more for the lack of humanity than for the eldest Malfoy's pain. The young woman was careful not to breathe audibly, sensing that she was none too far from receiving a similar torture herself.

"Enough." The Dark Lord ended the curse with a quick flick of his wrist. Peering at him carefully, Hermione was certain his expression never faltered.

"_This_ _isn't a man I might have loved once, not even in some past existence_." She grimaced, though, as she realized that she still felt a feeble trickle of a connection to this shell of a man.

"I am finished, Lucius. Make your other reports."

Lucius Malfoy, having grown rather used to the sudden bouts of torture, regained his icy, calm demeanor within a single stride. "My Lord," he began with a haughty tone, careful to counter it with a reverent bow. "The Aurors may have…slipped from our grasp, but we now know more about one particular center of operation. The Weasley residence, Master, is now the residence of Albus Dumbledore."

The Dark Lord rolled his eyes with boredom and impatience, as he turned around and slumped into his dark, ebony throne. "We already knew that, Lucius. I hope, for your sake, you've something new to add."

The infamous Malfoy sneer crossed Lucius' face, and his voice swelled with pride. "Apparently, the Weasley dwelling is housing a few _others_ we've had our sights on, including the infamous Potter."

Hermione's heart was suddenly in her throat: Harry, Ron, Ginny...possibly all of her friends were in danger. If Dumbledore was involved, too, it was terribly likely that they'd made it that much simpler for the Death Eaters to get them all in one blow. She felt responsible. If she hadn't gone back to fill in those stupid financial papers, Hermione would've been at the Burrow, or at least able to help. _"And now I'm stuck here, useless AND risking my life all at once. Genius, Mione."_

Lucius was ticking off a few other names. "Of course, my Lord, there are the Weasleys to contend with, as well as Neville Longbottom, and a multitude of loyal students of Dumbledore. What others there are, we aren't yet certain."

Again, the Dark Lord seemed vastly uninterested. Then, as Hermione stared, she saw his stony expression soften, his body starting out of its former lazy slouch. The sudden warmth in his eyes stirred something in the cinnamon-eyed woman, and she felt a sudden urge to slip behind the column again. There was some disturbance of energy in the room, as the air felt stiff and tense: something was shifting within Voldemort.

"_Others_, Lucius? What _others_? If you've found…" The formerly agitated, fierce tone had been replaced with subtle, vulnerable one. Hermione fought with herself to keep from glancing back at its owner.

Lucius Malfoy almost immediately regretted his words. Recovering quickly, the older Adonis craftily put on a face of true melancholy. "She was not among them, sir. I still have found little trace of that…_woman_." The silver-haired man was quite pleased with himself for managing such a kind term.

Hermione knew, she just knew, they were talking about her. _"He's **still** looking for me? Why didn't he come after me before? I haven't seen him since I left Hogwarts." _

A chill slipped through her as another realization hit her._ "Why did Lucius lie about knowing where I am? He's had me as his prisoner downstairs for…longer than I care to think about. Why hasn't he bragged about it to Voldemort?"_

Clearly, the eager man was not expecting such negative news from Lucius. He leapt up once more, his voice regaining a feral edge. "But you **told** me you were **_close_**! When I let you pull two raids on those worthless, practically desolate towns, you **swore** you were closing in on her!"

Her grip tightening on her marble barricade, Hermione finally let herself glance again at the Dark Lord. In one fell swoop, he'd managed to get Lucius Malfoy's neck in his hands and force the man to his knees. His eyes were blazing pools of hatred, the same fire rising in them that Hermione had seen many times before, but never so intensely.

"A moment, Master,_ please_…" The ever graceful, ever composed Lucius was sputtering words desperately, noisily gasping for breath. Is captor paused and seemed to rethink strangling him. A quick release was his only response, but Lucius knew this was his only opportunity to plead his case. After regaining his breath, and smoothing his long, white-blond hair back into place, he began.

"I know she is within reach. Draco simply lost track of her. She apparently _lied_ to him, my Lord." Lucius obviously relished reporting anything Hermione did that was imperfect, unkind.

But Hermione was too shell-shocked to notice, much less mind his exaggeration. Her breath had stopped, her blood turned to ice in her veins. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. _"**Draco**…? Draco lost **track** of me?"_

Voldemort smirked. "I was never confident in his abilities, Lucius. He's more incapable with tasks than you, if that's possible. I said from the start that his role was to be minimal."

The cocky voice took on a sarcastic, mocking tone. "_'He shall bring her out from the safety of the school walls, Master.'_" The Dark Lord sniggered, his face stern and furious.

"That was it, Lucius. But, **_no_**…your moronic heir decided he'd attempt to _romance_ her. Look where _that's_ gotten us." Voldemort, or Tom (as Hermione thought he sounded more the latter at that moment) was fuming.

Judging from his boyishly aggressive actions, not to mention the tone he took regarding Draco's "romance," Hermione became aware of the problem. _"I don't believe it: he's actually **jealous**."_

Lucius was well aware that he was treading on dangerous ground by arguing, but years of experience had taught him how to maneuver in this game. "My Lord, I know it wasn't your initial plan, but it **has** gotten us farther. The female trusts Draco, and despite what discomfort this may cause you, that will help ensnare the entire lot of them. When we find her, sir, you can trust that we will be victorious over all and, finally, we **shall** have our revenge."

"_Over my dead body, you shall."_ The curly haired woman smiled at the cliché, but immediately realized the intensity of what she'd just promised herself. _"How reckless am I? Willing to die at a moment's notice? Trusting anyone who seems to love me?"_

That last musing forced Hermione to think about Draco. She felt her lungs tighten as her eyes began to sting. Her heart ached, and as much as she hated to think about it in stereotypical, Muggle terms, it really was "breaking." As her eyes began to brim suddenly with a liquid warmth, Hermione decided to fight against it.

"_I won't cry. I **won't**. If he's **really** done this, **really** hurt me, then why should I cry for **him**? Exactly how would I be hurting **him** back if I start bawling like a baby and those loony, dark magic, unforgivable curse-using buffoons catch me? I **can** keep it together, and I will."_

The quivering woman regained the little bit of composure she had left in her being, opting to listen on in silence. She knew she had to be as calculating and resourceful as they were, and getting dirt on your enemy was the best defense she knew. _"God, I'm turning into one of them. I could've been in **Slytherin** with this attitude."_

No longer vehement with emotion, the dark wizard addressed Lucius again. "For now, Lucius, you and your son are in the clear. **But**, and I mean for you to _hear_ this…I want that _bitch_ found. I want to feel her blood streaming through my fingers, and I want to taste the tears fall from her eyes. It's your head, Lucius, if you don't bring her to me in the next few days. You **_know_** what happens to those who fail in this organization."

What little part of Hermione's conscious that had remained intact went numb. _"Now I see it. Tom is…**Voldemort** is only after whatever minor powers I have. But why would Lucius hide me? He's risking his neck for it, and I can't imagine this is the first time he's been tortured for his **failing** to bring me in."_

She shivered at the dark thoughts that passed through her mind then. After what seemed like no time at all, she could hear the meeting adjourn, as the Dark Lord dismissed the group with a quick, "Go, attend to your duties."

After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, Hermione felt she heard the last of the Death Eaters' footsteps fade off in the distance. She felt a sense of calm pass through her and decided it was probably safe to emerge from her asylum behind the thick marble column. "_At the very least_," she mused, "_I'll take a sound breath_."

With a soft, but certainly audible sigh, the young woman shook her curly locks, as if to wake herself from a nightmare. It was almost ridiculous the way should feel so relieved in such a place, when her life was in danger. But at that moment, as she was finally free to breathe, to **exist**, she believed she was the happiest she'd been in her entire life. And, despite the insanity of it, she had to smile.

"Thank heavens that's over." Her voice came out in a whisper, with just a twinge of actual tone in it. Still, it was louder than Hermione meant it to be, and seemed to echo up into the black expanse that was the ceiling.

She took one step from behind the column, steadying her breathing. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, merely trying to channel the chaotic mess floating around in her mind into something cohesive, something logical. She wasn't exactly used to being without some sense of order, and now was just the time she needed that compulsive sense of reason to kick in.

"It's _far_ from over, woman."

Hermione's eyes flew open at the sound of another voice. A sinister, sarcastic, and utterly terrible voice. Directly in front of her, wearing both a look of shock and loathing, was the face of her most hated enemy. Her most hated enemy, and most precious memory.

Tom Riddle, more or less Voldemort, was a mere three feet in front of her.

* * *

"Any more paperwork, and I swear I'm gonna turn you all into trees, just so you know how it must feel to be an endangered resource!" 

Despite the copper-haired woman's threat, everyone around her remained unruffled, quite possibly just to spite her. Ginny hated being stuck at the Burrow, especially when there were so many exciting opportunities being wasted on Ron, Harry, and an assortment of other Aurors and friends.

"Professor Dumbledore?" she asked for the tenth time that day. "Why must I sit here and do nothing?"

The old wizard smiled patiently, the twinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement at Ginny's plight. "Do nothing? Why, Miss Weasley,…arranging those papers isn't 'nothing'."

The irritated redhead was having none of _that_. "I've long since finished sorting, and resorting, upon your multiple requests. I'm about ready for some action!"

For the first time since he'd come to take up residence in her home, Ginny saw that her old headmaster looked pained. He coughed into his fist, politely hiding his awkwardness. When his gaze raised to meet Ginny's, her heart sped at the moroseness she saw there.

"Ginny, there will be more than enough action down the road. I assure you, even you shan't avoid it." Something in the professor's words worried her considerably, but she found herself beginning to understand precisely how omniscient and understanding Albus Dumbledore really was.

Before the youngest Weasley could sit back and feel ashamed, two young men suddenly burst in through the front door. They were noisy, excited, and Ginny sighed with relief as she recognized the messy, black head of hair that flashed by her. Its owner stumbled twice in the attempt to reach Professor Dumbledore.

"**Dumbledore**! Professor Dumbledore, we've _found_ it." Harry's eager rant matched his quick, jumpy movements. Ron wasn't far behind, trying to steady him.

Laughing at first at their absurdity, Ginny found her eyes drawn to the book Harry was waving around. It was plainly leather, with a russet binding cracking from age.

"_This_," Ginny thought with awe, "_is Hermione's diary…from **then**_."

* * *

It wasn't surprising, to Ginny anyway, that Dumbledore wouldn't let the group read the old book. Ginny just really wanted to peek at it. She even asked Ron if he'd gotten a glimpse of the contents. 

"Uh, er, well…No!" Ron't curt tone and furious flush betrayed his lie.

Nevertheless, Ginny knew she wasn't going to be able to pry anything from her brother. She presumed Harry would be an easier nut to crack.

"Harry," she began, batting her eyelashes and craftily sliding next to him on the couch. "I was wondering about something."

Of course, just being that near to a flirting Ginny Weasley, when he hadn't really in about month, was enough to force an audible gulp out of Harry. The flustered man practically squeaked when he answered, "Yeah, Gin?"

The scheming object of his affection beamed triumphantly. "Did you happen to see any part of Mione's diary? I mean, anything a good friend of hers ought to know?"

Harry knew not to answer. He really did. But, then, this was Ginny. He shook his head nervously, adamantly. Ginny shrugged it off casually, but Harry knew it wasn't over yet. Ginny's perseverance and fiery nature were things he _usually_ loved about her.

The shaggy Auror was relieved to make it through that evening's dinner unprovoked. "_Of course_," he reasoned to himself, "_She isn't going to plague me about it in front of everyone_." Ginny was sitting no where near Harry, and the dining area was swamped with multiple "witnesses": all the Aurors and assistants living in this temporary headquarters.

Later that night, though, Ginny did finally get him alone. Out on the doorstep, she began to pry at her love interest. "Look, Gin." Harry wasn't going to use anything but a firm tone with her…as long as he could manage it, anyway.

"Ron and I may have…accidentally…read a page or so of Mione's little book. But, and I really mean this, Ginny…it was **_nothing_** you want to know about. It was heartbreaking, to say the least. I mean, it's no wonder Dumbledore took Mione out of whenever it was she lived exactly."

"But that's exactly the point, Harry. She's one of my best mates, and I need to know what it is I should be prepared for. She can't make it on her own, despite what she may say or think. Look at how Draco got her: he planted one or two little seeds of doubt, then made sure he was the only one there for her to lean on."

"Gin, I can't. I'm sorry."

The young Weasley woman gave a reluctant sigh. She could see that simply asking Harry wasn't going to get her anywhere, but decided to remain beside him on the steps, nonetheless. His eyes, she could see, were rather glazed over, peering off into the distance at some indefinite point.

"_There must have been some terrible, horrifying things written in that diary_." She realized, immediately feeling the need to console the shaken man beside her.

"Whatever it was, Harry, I'm fine with not knowing as long as it will help Mione for Dumbledore to have that book." Her handsome companion glanced over, his bright green eyes still holding a trace of misery. Ginny tentatively raised her hand from its idle position in her own lap, slipping her palm over Harry's.

The formerly quiet, distressed young man jerked, as if rescued from some other dimension, where he was previously drowning in a turbid whirlpool. His eyes laghed at ginny, and she smiled back at him watchfully.

"Gin, I have to talk to you about something." Harry stood abruptly, pulling Ginny up with him. Her glance was skeptical, but she followed him as he took her a few paces away from the house.

"Okay…" Ginny played along, hoping whatever it was wasn't going to propel Harry back into whatever had depressed him before. The man was getting to be as bipolar as Mione.

"Well, you know how we…how you and I…" He gazed in her eyes, thinking. Whatever he was trying to say was difficult to simply phrase. Ginny was not patient by nature, and the stuttering didn't help.

"How we what? Harry, I'm sleepy, and I'd like to go and get more paperwork done before I head off to bed, if you don't mind." Ginny wanted no such thing, of course, but she knew it would prompt the nervous man to speak.

Harry closed the distance between them in one step, taking both of Ginny's hands and bringing them to his chest. "Can you feel that, Gin?" The young man all but whispered, his stare unwavering now.

A head of long, copper hair shook. Ginny was confused. "_His skin isn't cold, and it doesn't seem he's running a fever…_" Living as a female in the Weasley house had rubbed off on Ginny: touching a man's skin meant he must be suffering from an illness, and it was always her task to find out which.

Harry smiled. "That's my heart. It's beating about four times as fast as it should." Ginny could feel her face burning at his words.

Before she could stammer out an awkward reply, the woman felt a hand traverse to the small of her back, pulling her into the man before her. Involuntarily, her eyes closed, and Ginny felt the pressure of two lips, ardent but tender, bearing down on her own.

When Harry pulled back again, his face was questioning, uncertain. This had been a test, Ginny realized, and he was gauging her reaction. She purposefully smiled, hoping he couldn't hear _her_ heartbeat.

"Harry, I think I love you." Ginny was proud of herself for managing the phrase at all. Still, though it was shaky, she could tell by Harry's dancing green eyes that it was what he'd wanted to hear.

"In that case, Ginny…" The young man took a step back, releasing one of Ginny's hands as he knelt down. As the red-haired woman took note of the messy head of dark hair now at her waist level, Ginny grasped at what was going on. Harry was on one knee. Involuntarily, the youngest Weasley's heart leapt into her throat and became permanently lodged there.

Clearing his throat, Harry looked at Ginny's left hand. With his free hand, he reached into his right pocket, producing some small trinket Ginny couldn't quite make out in the twilight.

"Ginevra Weasley, will you make me the happiest wizard alive, and be my wife?"

* * *

The air was icy and still. It was as though the music of life was taking a grand pause, a breath before the notes suddenly got faster and louder, in some minor key. Hermione didn't know how long it was that they had been standing there staring at each other, but it seemed to last for decades. He broke first, his eyes dropping all but the faintest hint of their former flare. His move was erratic, sudden. 

Hermione took note of the shift in his muscles and, like an animal who has realized its situation as another's prey, she shut her eyes, preparing for the pounce: a blow, a violent attack of any kind. She never expected him to do what he did.

The dark lord was embracing her before she'd taken a breath, his arms icy on her skin, but his clutch as strong as though it were stone that held her. Hermione was at a loss for how to react. He was her greatest threat, the most violent being she'd ever encountered. One false move on her part, and this could easily turn from a hug into a strangling. Besides, he was about as predictable as cheap tacos: if she made a sudden move now, it might just be enough to make an upset stomach of the whole situation.

"My Mione." His whisper was gentle as it passed her ear, but the throaty sound of it made Hermione recognize exactly how territorial an embrace it was. As his hands slipped into the young woman's mop of curls, Hermione felt her stomach tie itself in knots. Placing one hand at the base of her skull, Tom pulled back her face to study it, unbelievingly, as though she were a mirage, or else the product of food deprivation and one too many days in the company of the rather moronic Death Eaters.

His eyes were full: of love or hate, Hermione couldn't discern. "_It might be deeper than both_." She pondered silently.

The young man drew her close to him again, satisfied with his senses: Hermione was really there. "It's been so long…I've combed the countryside, love. You've no idea."

For whatever reason, Hermione immediately found herself wanting this man to return to his irrational, angrier state. She most certainly **did** have an idea of how he'd "combed the countryside." He'd murdered hundreds, all through the multiple raids. He'd clearly been trying to kill two birds with one stone: destroy the Muggles he hated, and find his long lost…love? Hermione hesitated to think that word: she wasn't sure if she was a power source or just an object of obsession.

Either way, she couldn't remain in his arms. The confused young woman tore from her captor fiercely, which she gathered wouldn't have been possible without surprising him.

"Don't touch me." Hermione startled herself with the frostiness of her tone, and she prayed the words stung him. "I am no love of yours…you murdering bastard!"

Despite the truth she _knew_ sounded in her words, Hermione felt a pang of guilt slip through her. Somehow, denying him and cutting him down was hurting **_her_**…and she wasn't sure why.

Tom's piercing, sullen scowl bore into her instantly. He had been suppressing it before, she reasoned. Hermione took a few cautious steps back, her instincts beckoning her to prepare to run. Unfortunately, she found herself stuck: she'd run right into that same column she'd used as a refuge before, and now she had no way to escape. "_God, why does it have to be **now** that I show my gracefulness_?"

As his ferocity abated, a smirk made its way onto Tom's face, and Hermione felt all of her senses sharpen. It was a predatory smirk, like a lion happening upon a wounded gazelle. Clearly, Tom had learned to rein in his moodiness, for whatever it was worth. It wasn't making _Hermione_ feel any safer.

"So, that is how it will be then, hmm?" The man's tone was sinister, almost mocking. "I see Lucius was right about you being an unfaithful, useless whore."

Hermione was surprisingly unfazed by his cutting words: they weren't really his anyway, as he'd been fed them for months and months by someone she knew to loathe her anyhow. Instead, she chose to turn the tables on him. "Why am I here, sir?"

The Dark Lord's brow raised, then immediately furrowed. "What do you mean? Evidently, you snuck in here, hoping to spy or some other such nonsense."

Hermione studied him suspiciously. "_Either you're lying, or someone else is_." She thought accusingly. Hermione opted to mention at least **_some_** part of the truth, hoping to pry more from him.

"I have been here for days. My cell, if you don't believe me, is one floor down. I took that stairway." Hermione spoke practically, pointing to the dark entryway in the corner nearest her.

Tom looked more than confused: he was lost, and the perplexity of it all was making him livid. Suddenly, he came within an inch or so of her face, grabbing her hair in one fist. He yanked her head back, letting it bump roughly against the hard marble of the column, as he examined her eyes with such intensity that Hermione feared she might betray herself and cry. "_He's trying to read my mind…I've got to remember those occlumency lessons…I've **got** to_."

"You aren't lying." Tom let go of her, his tone changed once more. The Dark Lord was vulnerable and Hermione was pleased, in some odd way, knowing that **_this_** was what unnerved Lucius about her being around his master.

"Who has kept you here with my knowing?" Tom's eyes were sharp, impatient. Hermione hesitated, afraid that perhaps this was all some sort of diversion, that he knew all along where she was and who kept there.

"Lucius." Her answer was simple: she wasn't giving anymore than he gave.

Tom laughed: a dark, harsh sound. "Lucius? That man could no more hide you from me than Dumbledore." Catching her weighty glance again, Tom reconsidered. "But you aren't lying." He murmured, affirming her honesty more to himself than to her.

Tom turned from her, stalking back to his throne of sorts. Hermione followed warily: her fears were abating, her curiosity far more prevalent. She watched her enemy take his time in rising from the last step, almost admiring the way the shadows seemed to welcome him. Tom leaned back into his ebony chair, seemingly revived by the return to darkness. Hermione remained standing, wringing her hands anxiously behind her back.

After a few minutes of silence, both from awkward anticipation and absolute confusion, Tom leaned forward. Placing his face into his hands, the young heaved a weighty sigh. Hermione could feel her muscles tightening, already aching from another brutal confrontation.

But it never came. As his great sigh ended, Tom's hands slid through his slightly shaggy, chocolate brown locks, to his neck, where they briefly clasped before falling into his rigid lap. The hung head lifted, and Hermione resented herself immediately for the small thrill she felt: she was staring into two, deep green eyes.

"What kind of mess have I gotten us into, Hermione?"

* * *

A/N: HEY anyone still reading? lol…I finally got a chance to edit the mega huge stack of papers that was chapter 18's rough draft. Guess what? Most of it is now in 19, because somewhere along the way, this chapter got to be about 8,000 words long….so, yeah. Besides, this satan computer had a viral attack major…and the original 18 was deleted, along with everything else I had on here (lucky me I had the UBER rough draft for this chappie). (btw...my beta still hasn't read this...so editing is pooey and a half) 

Oh, and the mature rating, as I've never addressed it… yeah, the language has been restrained, along with the sex content… and that's gonna change a lot in the final chapters (god, I hope this is done in 25 chapters, or college will be SO much harder)…so yeah, you've been warned. anyhoos…. REVIEW or PERISH ….ºoº


	19. Discovery

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything herein, except the plot…which, of course, looks silly now that JK Rowling's work is finished…and far more brilliant than anything I could devise.

* * *

Chapter 19

* * *

Ginny felt like she'd been sitting at the kitchen table for ages, just holding onto the book in her hands nervously. A little, worn leather book. A little, worn leather book with yellowed pages and spidery writing.

"Okay, so I've only had it ten minutes. It still feels like something criminal." In a sense, Ginny's thoughts weren't so far off the mark: she _**had**_ taken the diary from…well, _**stolen**_ it from Dumbledore's little sack by the fireplace. "But what choice did I have? Pushing the charm on Harry was fruitless, and I had to see this."

The little inner argument would have won Ginny's conscience over, had she actually read any part of the book yet. She was just too petrified to find out what gruesome detail had forced her friend to "start over" at _**life**_. Nevertheless, Ginny's obsession with getting the diary had finally paid off, and she felt absolutely ridiculous just holding it. Letting out a long sigh, she let her eyes scroll down and make sense of the words on the aged page.

_**Hermione, 1947**_

Ginny smiled at the familiar handwriting, and instantly felt a twinge of guilt. If anyone caught her right now, she knew there'd be no end to the lectures, dirty looks…and yet, she knew it would be worth it. "_I have to know what's going on. I mean, she's my best friend, and I owe her_." And so, the redhead on a mission turned back to her reading, unabashed and ready to learn whatever she could from it.

_**29 April, 1947**_

_**Today was quite excellent, really. In Potions, despite Slughorn's constant assurance of my methods' being unorthodox, I managed to finish up a rather decent batch of Felix felicis. It was almost too amber, in my opinion, but the smaller droplets' leaping about made it worthy enough. Of course, Slughorn seemed abashed, which made it all well worth it. He was positively gushing with charm as I handed him my vial.**_

_**Lunch was, as usual, quite droll. I was sitting with Demeter and Phoebe, but both of them were being unusually chatty. Apparently, there was some gorgeous, new Ravenclaw, and he was staring in our general direction off and on the entire lunch period. Frankly, I looked up and caught his eye, and I'll agree that he's very good-looking, but Ravenclaws always prove to be frightfully dull as boyfriends. Looks only go so far to fix boredom, you know. Besides, we've got our N.E.W.T.'s next month, and I am much too keen on getting past those to concentrate on some boy.**_

_**I got a letter from Tom today. It was fairly brief, though. All it mentioned was how his "plans were working out splendidly" and he "couldn't wait for me to join the movement." Oddly enough, I often find myself struggling to understand why such a brilliant wizard wants to waste his time like this. His "anti-Muggle" ideas are, at best, a bit off-the-wall, even though he assures me he shan't act on them. The evasive tone of this letter in particular makes me wonder, though, if he isn't hiding something from me. That rather hurts.**_

_**Of course, he might have finally decided that I'm not worth the wait. After all, every woman he meets seems to swoon at his feet. I've seen it happen, all those years he was here. I'll admit that, yeah, he's attractive, but sometimes I wish he had to work harder to get what he wants. He's such a Slytherin. I suppose that's the only thing he really sees in me: I've never been one for his sappy, fake charm.**_

_**Well, I won't be worrying anymore about it, for now. Off to study, then to bed. I'll write more tomorrow.**_

Ginny smiled. "_Still the same old Mione_." This was the same friend she'd known, long before the mess of the last few years happened: the girl who was too concerned with her studies to fall for just any old nitwit.

Deciding that most of the surrounding entries would be too focused on exams to glean anything useful from them, they young woman flipped ahead to about three-fourths of the way through the book. Ginny took a stray lock of hair from her face, glancing down at the pages as she tucked it behind her ear. The writing was much more harried now, not quite up to the usual neatness and simplicity of Hermione's normal script. There was even a small blot of ink in the lower, left-hand corner.

_**23 December, 1948**_

_**Went to visit Mum and Dad today. They smiled and laughed when I told them about Rascal, that little puppy Demeter and Arnold sent me for Christmas. But, honestly, they must think I'm too blind to notice all their sympathetic, worried glances. I know I've lost a bit of weight, and I have a few scrapes here and there. But a bruise or two is nothing, and I've simply been so busy with getting everything ready for the move…it's not like I've been lounging about. Besides, I'm worried about Tom. **_

_**He's been terribly moody as of late…even more so than his usual, prat self. And his eyes…they're red all the time, now, and he's SO pale he's practically translucent. Well, at least a few of those adoring admirers have slacked off; not that HE'S any less proud for it, of course. He's constantly reporting how he's gotten yet another young, powerful witch to lend him her services or wealth. Perhaps he's honestly trying to get me jealous. Silly prat, of course, but I love him for it. If only he'd be a bit cheerier for those few moments he's actually about. And if he didn't get so testy when I spent time with my male friends…such the hypocrite. **_

_**But, for better or worse, I love the man. I'll never be able to leave him, I know. Even if he'd let me, I don't think I physically could. He's my other half, and I wish everyone would just try to understand that. It's so much deeper a connection than they can grasp. **_

_**Well, tomorrow's Christmas Eve, and I really ought to sleep a bit before I get to work on moving things once more. Off to bed, then. Cheers.**_

The smile had faded out of Ginny Weasley's eyes: something odd was going on, and old-Hermione wasn't letting on, even through her private writings. "_She's hidden something, and I know it's about him. Things, bad things, happened between them, and she wouldn't tell anyone_."

"Gin, what the bloody hell are you doing with that? Have you lost your marbles?"

Just as Ginny had struggled to the next page of the diary, she had an unexpected visitor. "_Busted_." She cringed at being discovered, and quickly slapped the diary's two halves shut.

"Ron, please…keep your voice down." Ginny whispered feverishly, tossing the book quickly to the other end of the table. "No one needs to know-"

"Yeah, right." Ron interrupted briskly, although much quieter. His gaze slowly flickered to the diary, and Ginny noticed how her brother's glance altered from angry to thoughtful.

"Gin," he began, and the tone was nervous, almost pleading, now. "Do you think…I mean, don't you believe we ought to know what happened? I mean, we all lov-, er…_care _about Hermione. Shouldn't we investigate a bit?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Ron, I read the book. What are you really asking?" Ron smiled, sheepish as always. "Do you think Hermione'd mind if I …well, if I read a bit? Just to get a grasp on things, of course."

She had to think about it carefully. Ron was her brother, after all, and more than anything, she wanted to help him end a bit of the confusion that was hurting them all. Nevertheless, Ginny knew how much the entry she'd just read would trouble him, as it was still bothering her immensely. It might be too much, especially if Ron went much further in the book than where she'd left off.

"Ron," Ginny's voice was too sympathetic, and Ron's eyes immediately hardened. Still, she was determined to get him to understand. "Just hear me out, alright? Hermione was the same girl we know, to a great extent. Would she want you to read through her private thoughts now? It's kind of private, something that she'd barely forgive me for, I'm certain."

Ron's gaze was truly harsh now, and Ginny steeled herself for verbal assault. "Yeah, well…**YOU'VE** gotten to read it already, so **YOU** don't understand my curiosity." Ginny had to roll her eyes as she sighed. This was only about curiosity?

"I'm her best mate, Ron, and I can't let you read it. She was hurt back then, that's for certain, but she certainly was careful about being specific. She didn't open up until it was too late. Hermione was still the intellectual, but private, sort of girl that she is now. And _that's_ the Hermione I think you should be scrambling for information on, not the one beyond our help."

The young woman was shocked at how well her voice carried, how logical her argument sounded, even as she made it up off the top of her head. The orange-haired young man in front of her paused, and his expression softened. He realized how silly it was to want to read a book that badly, when he'd never grasp anything from it. Nevertheless, the injustice of Ginny's reading the diary wasn't lost on him.

"Alright, sis, I'm not going to ask to read it. But, while I don't want Dumbledore on your arse, I AM telling Harry about this, and he'll keep that book from you. Sounds fair, eh?"

Ginny grimaced, and Ron leaned over to snatch the leather-bound object from its resting place on the far end of the table. "Fine." She relented simply, and forced herself not to jut out her chin in irritation.

As Ron walked away, Ginny smiled mischievously. He was giving Harry the diary. "_I'll get another look at that diary, and I'll figure it all out. Harry'll never know I was even snooping for it_."

* * *

"**What the HELL do you mean?!?! She's been here ALL ALONG**?!?!" Draco Malfoy was positively fuming. His bloodshot eyes were filled with confusion and hatred, whilst the dark circles under them served as evidence for stress and lack of sleep. He'd just had a meeting with the Dark Lord an hour ago, during which he had to pretend not to care about his wife's whereabouts. He'd even had to agree to his father's confession of having no clue what she was up to at the moment. The latter, at least, was an honest expression.

Once they were out of the room however, and safely residing in an old bedroom a few floors up, Lucius changed his tune. To some extent, he gave Draco a rather shocking dose of truth.

"She's downstairs, son, in a cell I've kept enchanted. He can't sense her, for the most part, and when he does, I simply have him write it off as something unbalanced in her powers. It's nonsense of course, but how else would I be able to control him? She's down there, ready for torturing, and when I'm through with her, he'll have gotten over her silly hold on him. Besides, she'll look a great deal…different."

The sick grin on his father's face made Draco's stomach churn, though he tried desperately to appear non-chalant. Something in his son's expression made Lucius recant a bit. "I'm…sorry, Draco, for not letting you know sooner. I mean, I couldn't tell you in front of _him_." His tone was apologetic, but the narrowed eyes and scrutinizing glance showed something else entirely.

The younger man flinched, and regained composure instantly. "It doesn't matter, Father. I'm quite glad you've got the bitch locked up. It just irritated me, when I've been searching for that creature, high and low, to appease his lordship…that you knew all along."

Lucius sighed in relief. "You had me concerned, for a moment there. But, calm yourself, and I'll bring you up to speed. We've much to prepare for, you know."

* * *

a/n: SORRY SORRY SORRY…I know, it's been over a YEAR, but I haven't forgotten, and I finally killed a bit of a roadblock. I was working for Walt Disney World, on an internship, and it took so much time. Loved it of course, and recommend it for any considering. That, and the whole…everything in the books keeps making this fic look ridiculous. Let's pretend we left off at like, book four or something. Moving on...yeah, I'm still writing…lots of things, actually, but this is in my top two. I am sorry this chappie's so short, but I couldn't put up ALL that I've written for chapter 19…its like 4000 words or more. Besides, more suspense is better, and I want to double check a dialogue or two. Promise to have it up in a week or so, as chapter 20. Probably by the time you've all found this one.

ºoº Have a magical day ºoº


	20. Confrontational

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter ANYTHING, anyone, etc….I only own my very own, semi-ludicrous plot...and my computer, which seems to be hated by certain fanfiction sites' posting mechanisms. Ahem

* * *

Chapter 20

* * *

"Tom?"

Hermione was determined to be callous with the tired-looking man before her. His shock at her being there could be feigned, she reasoned, as he was quite the gifted actor when an occasion called for it. "_Besides_," she thought, "_He's quite a bit mental, anyhow_."

Two green eyes, deep and pleading, turned their confused gaze on her. Tom had been silent for quite some time, staring at the floor in deep contemplation. He'd simply asked a random rhetorical question, Hermione recalled, and sat back into the only chair in the room. "_What kind of mess have I gotten us into, Hermione_?"

Well, he'd certainly been right to ask it, at any rate. Hermione was in some strange place, with practically every enemy she could ever remember encountering, and a half-crazed, murderous wizard that had some unfathomable connection to her, body and soul. "_This would make a great Shakespearean tragicomedy._" Even with her very existence at state, she couldn't help but think of random tangents to one of her favorite Muggle playwrights. "_Side effect of near-hysteria_." Hermione reasoned.

Tom's silence was more annoying than suspenseful, though, and she's been ready to face him for a while. Breaking his concentration, she'd spoken his name firmly, and it echoed softly around them. Now that she had his attention, she was certain that remaining unfeeling towards him would bring out whatever was going on, hopefully without causing her to sympathize, empathize, or (as she now constantly dreaded) black out.

"Yes?" He'd caught her tone, and his answer matched hers: short, precise. Hermione gulped, praying her heart wasn't as audible as it felt.

"Tom, you claim that you had no idea I was here, correct?" He nodded, a slight and curt gesture. He was still aggravated at this lapse, and it was more than obvious.

"So," Hermione continued, "You're saying that connection we share, that makes us able to sense one another, failed?" She hesitated to ask, and was wary not to mention that she could still sense him, feel his confusion in this very room. After all, that could be a great weapon for her to have later on. "_If he can't find me, and I can hide from him when I sense him coming…_"

A sinister chuckle interrupted her thoughts. "I can sense you still, you silly woman. I just made a mistake listening to Lucius. He claimed, should I feel your presence, that it was due to some manipulation; that your friends had found a way to hide you and confuse me." Tom laughed again. "How moronic of me to have listened. You can't be hidden from me, Hermione. Your magic, our connection…it's like a fire in my veins when you're near."

Hermione felt her chin jutting out in defiance, and really couldn't help her pouting like a five-year-old. "I never said you could listen in on my thoughts." She hated sounding like a schoolgirl, but it was getting annoying.

"Darling," Tom began, rising to walk toward her, "You never were much of an Occlumens." His gaze was not confused now: not in the least. In fact, the predatory gleam in Tom's eyes was enough to shake all of Hermione's new-found courage right out of her. Her stomach leapt into her throat, as she fought desperately to stop shivering.

"Tom, I-"

He was before her in three steps, a slender finger pressed to her lips. "Shh. We don't need words now, do we? I think there've been more than enough of those for a lifetime." An arm snaked its way around her waist, and Hermione simply couldn't look away from the two, deep eyes boring into her own.

Everything felt hazy, dreamlike, but Hermione knew it was too real to be a dream. Without hesitation, but slowly and confidently, Tom captured her mouth with his. Hermione was resolute: she would just let it pass, this kiss. It was just lips, nothing more, and it would be over in a moment.

This wasn't like any kiss they'd shared before, though. Tom's tongue was forceful, domineering. Her mouth wasn't hers any longer, and yet she found she was enjoying it. The emotion, the intensity, were giving rise to feelings Hermione never believed possible. Her body was tingling, from her fingertips to her toes, and with every caress of his tongue on hers, she felt another wave of what seemed to be pure energy. It was like an orgasm, but nowhere nearly as crude.

It was as though Tom's arms, pinning her against him vehemently, his hands, roaming to grasp her face and hair, and his mouth, never relenting, were all creating portals into her very core. Hermione was becoming one with him, and as she allowed her mind to hone in, she began to feel what he was feeling. "_Need, aching need…Worry, worry that he might lose me again…Anger, anger for my abandonment…_"

Tom wasn't asking, in his kiss, if Hermione would have him back. He wasn't begging her forgiveness with some tender embrace. No, the man currently bruising her lips with a beastly ferocity was doing nothing on her account. This was about him, reclaiming a part of his being. Tom was taking back what was "his." He was unyielding, fervent, and Hermione felt punishment in his passion, not love.

As one hand held her fast at the waist, another began to roam, first up her back to play with her hair. Quickly, though, it traveled to the front, cupping her left breast, where it began kneading, rather brutally. Without a thought, Hermione gasped, but Tom wouldn't release her. Managing to maintain a stone-like hold of her with an arm snaked around her waist , the young man brought up his other hand to massage, very roughly, the prior-neglected right breast.

"_This is getting out of control_." Hermione's logical mind, from out of the blue, forced her to recoil from her captor's embrace. Tom moaned, taking a hand from her chest long enough to grab her by her mop of chestnut curls and yank her back into him. His touch was as eager as ever now, and his vice-like grip was unwilling to even allow Hermione enough room for breath.

As Tom began, yet again, to grope at the beautiful woman in his arms, Hermione felt a strong surge of desperation. She was a timid doe, trapped in the mountain lion's murderous grasp, and she knew she had to fight before it was too late. Not pausing to think about consequences, Hermione bit down, fairly hard, on the tongue loath to abandon the sanctity of her mouth. She knew instantly that she'd probably drawn blood.

The trick worked, and Tom jumped back from her, somewhat startled. His eyes, however, were scorching. "What was THAT fucking for?!?!" His voice, despite his ragged breathing, was eerily calm. Hermione couldn't let herself back down, though, not now.

"Maybe I don't **WANT** you all over me. Did you ever think that, just possibly, I might _loathe_ you? You've murdered hundreds of innocents, two of which were my parents, and yet you expect me to cling to you? Are you _insane_, Tom? Never mind the fact that I'm _married_, and it sure as all _Hell_ isn't to _you_!"

She regretted mentioning her marriage instantly. The look of outrage on Tom's face transformed quickly into a sly grin. "Oh, that's right."

His voice was dripping with sarcasm, in mock surprise. "And here I'd forgotten about your husband…who _**BETRAYED**_ you. But, of course, I'm certain you knew it was his _mission_, correct? You knew he only stayed with you because he was _ordered_ to do so."

Hermione felt her heart drop into her feet, and she braced herself: Tom was by no means finished yet. "Naturally, being _such_ a _brilliant_ mind, you were _completely_ aware of how, each time you _**made love**_, it was a _**farce**_. You just kept up the pretense, right? Or was it because you liked it? You _**enjoyed**_ being used, didn't you?"

Her vision was getting blurry, as she fought the tears back. Hermione had never felt so vulnerable, so wounded. "**SHUT UP**! Why can't you just…let me…be?" Her voice broke with sobs, and she felt weak as she shook in front of him. When she peered into his eyes, Hermione was frightened by his grin.

"Oh, you poor, naïve little thing…you mean, you didn't know? So, you willingly opened your legs to some enemy, just because he stroked you right?"

Tom was sneering mercilessly, and he'd closed the distance between them once again. "Tell me, _**bitch**_," the young man commanded, snatching her back into his arms, "Did he _ever _kiss you like I do? Did he _**touch**_ you like I do, the way you _**KNOW**_ you were meant to be touched?"

And, as ferociously as ever before, he had Hermione in an embrace that was practically painful. His lips were pushing against hers angrily, and the force of his jaw was bruising her entire mouth. His tongue was beating hers back, as though in battle. Tom's hands were roaming, brutishly latching onto her hair, her breasts, her rear, and any other part he felt he could grasp.

And yet, despite her repulsion, she couldn't move. It was as though he were a magnet, and the waves going through her wouldn't allow her to break away from him. And so, tears streaming from her eyes, she remained in his embrace, until he finally ended it.

With a nip at her bottom lip, Tom ceased his attack. He released her tentatively, and Hermione realized he was gauging her reaction. He expected her, as she quickly gathered, to try and return to him: to see the "error of her ways." Tom clearly knew all about the hazy, intense feeling that overcame her when they united. He was right, to some extent: he _**did**_ touch her in a way that charged her, unlike anyone else.

And Hermione realized that she didn't _**care**_. Tom was her perfect match in physical and chemical realms, without a doubt. He knew her soul in a raw, natural way. But, as Hermione saw it, that only predisposed them to wanting each other: it was not automatically love. Nature forced them together in a sick "survival of the fittest," but that didn't mean they would love one another. Love was more of a struggle, she reasoned, not an everyday action like breathing in and out.

"_This is going to hurt me_," Hermione readied herself, "_But I'm not letting Nature force my hand anymore_."

Tom was still observing her, and he seemed to perceive her reaching a sort of epiphany. His eyes gave him away: he was hopeful, despite everything. Tom's gaze, no matter how territorial or angry, was starved and needy: pleading.

Hermione felt a pang in her very core: his abuse, his passionate outburst, even the murdering of her _**parents**_: it was all his sad, twisted way of reaching out to her. "_He needs me. He really can't exist without balancing one another_."

In spite of appearances, Tom really _**needed**_ her: her powers that checked his own, of course, but also her _**soul**_. Hermione had become his everything: the intellectual, sympathetic caretaker, just as much as the powerful, inherent mate. And that realization hurt, too, especially as she'd just made up her mind to leave him, at all costs.

"I don't love you, Tom." It was a lie, but she knew she was guarding herself too well now for her occlumency to fail again. "If Draco betrayed me, fine. If he was merely acting, I'll accept that. But that role he so eloquently portrayed? _**THAT**_ is the man I love."

As it was at least partially true, Hermione had little trouble in keeping her tone believable. Tom's expression was instantly dark, his brow furrowed and chin jutting out in irritation. Still, she continued. "_I have to make him want to be rid of me_."

"And as for your _**touch**_?" Hermione leaned closer and made her best attempt at a seductive tone. "Draco didn't need force to keep me in his hole, I _**assure**_ you."

It was cheap, she knew, but men were too easily irked by competition, and Hermione had to use it. Almost instantly, however, she felt a blow to her right temple like a boulder thrown into her face. The force of it knocked her down to the marble floor, where she found herself sprawled.

Peeking up hesitantly, the young woman had to sweep several curly strands from her face to view her attacker. His right fist still clenched by his side, when Tom began to speak, Hermione realized her work was nearly complete: his eyes were glowing, crimson as fresh blood.

"Lucius was right all along, at least in one facet." Tom's tone was bitter, but his volume was oddly quiet. "You're a woman: you're inconstant, weak, and little more than a common whore."

Hermione felt her resolve weakening: his pain was her pain, and his heart (what little was left) was shattering to nothingness. She couldn't do this, not to this extent. Their bond had strengthened in the mere minutes they'd been reunited, and Hermione simply couldn't see a way to get at him without feeling the affliction herself. Yes he'd hurt her, but hurting him was going to kill her.

"Tom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-." His eyes blazed down at her, and Hermione fell silent at once.

"Do not address me by that name, and do not lie to me anymore. If you have turned your soul against embracing mine, so be it. I do NOT need your love, much less your companionship." Tom turned and began sauntering back to his simple throne. Hermione shifted, and began rising to her feet.

"Oh." Tom turned, and as he lazily pointed to her, she felt an invisible force shove her back onto the marble ground "I don't recall mentioning that you had my permission to stand."

He was cold, his tone devoid of anything but disdain. Tom leaned back into his chair slowly, his eyes never leaving the somewhat disheveled young lady on the floor in front of him.

"How, Hermione, we have a problem of what to do with you." Tom paused, pretending to genuinely consider a multitude of options. "I suppose you're not of much use, aside from your inherent powers, which you only just NOW seem to have realized."

Hermione gasped inwardly: how did he know about that already? She'd said nothing about her experiences downstairs, and even Lucius didn't know about those yet.

The young man rolled his gleaming eyes, a bored look flashing over his pale face. "Occlumency, my dear: you're terrible at keeping up much of a barrier." As she silently cursed herself, Hermione resolved to ask Dumbledore for Occlumency lessons…should she ever see him again.

"_That's what you get for loving Ancient Runes and Arithmancy_." She really couldn't see how any of her favorite school subjects would ever come to as practical a use as Occlumency. "_Unless_," she mused, "_Tom decides to set before me a page of riddles, written in runes, that lead to the formulation of a numerical chart, that will in turn reveal an escape route from this situation. Yeah, bloody likely_."

Rolling her eyes at her own absurdity, Hermione noticed Tom's becoming more visibly upset. "At least make an _**ATTEMPT**_ to control your thoughts, woman."

He rose, and began to pace slowly in front of her. "I've decided your fate for you. Knowing prior that I might never recover you in your entirety, I have researched endless means for the removal of innate powers. The best way…" Tom paused, smirking. "The best way involves a rather painful extraction, ending in death."

Hermione grimaced, determined not to whimper. "Really now? Death, you say?" Her voice managed to stay under control, but her mind was growing frantic behind the guise.

"Oh yes, Hermione. And that is what I've decided is necessary for our situation. I mean, we wouldn't want to waste those gifts of yours." He laughed, a cruel sound.

"We'll need an evening to prepare, of course. And, cliché as ever, the ritual requires a full moon. But, luckily for us, we're going to have a full moon in a mere two nights' time!"

His grin was sarcastic as he leered down at her. "I suppose I shall house you until then, out of the kindness and mercy I possess. Oh, but don't you fret: I won't allow you to reside in such a ludicrous cell, as you seem to have been in previously. The dungeons have far better chambers, much more suited to _your_ station."

"Please don't do this." Hermione rose, very slowly. "I don't want to hurt you, Tom. I just want to end this."

The pale face glowered, and within an instant, he was a mere two inches in front of her. "You want to end this?" Tom snatched her hair at the base of her scalp, yanking her head back to stare into his face, as he leaned over her.

"I can't _**be**_ hurt, Hermione. But _**you**_? Oh, you most certainly can. I'll end this for you, and you can consider it a parting gift." And with that, he shoved her back to the floor.

"_I'm really gonna be spotted like a Jobberknoll from all this bruising_." Hermione rubbed her left elbow from where she'd landed on it hard. She focused back on the angry wizard she'd pushed to the limit.

Tom wasn't looking at her anymore. His wand was drawn, the point at his neck, and soon his voice was as loud as any Quidditch announcer had ever been. "_**WE HAVE A PRISONER IN NEED OF WELCOME. COME TO THE MAIN HALL IMMEDIATELY**_!!"

Hermione shrunk back to one of the columns, bracing herself for the group that would surely be there soon. Sure enough, in waltzed the elder Goyle, then Crabbe, then Dolohov, the Carrows, and the younger Avery. They all looked expectantly to their Dark Lord, who in turn, would give Hermione a quick glance.

Now, as they all stared in her direction, Hermione felt her nerves getting out of control again. "Is _**THIS**_ the wench we've been lookin' for? Not much to her, eh?" Avery smirked.

Tom was quick with his instructions. "Act towards her as you will. Your only conditions are that she is alive, sane, and in a dungeon cell for the next two nights. I want sanity, you see, as she must be truly conscious for what ritual we perform in two nights."

The Death Eaters were excited, that much was clear. Their looks and mutterings gave away their blatant intent to have "fun" with their task. Hermione, despite her predicament, was still unsure of how to react. "_I won't scream, I won't cower_."

Resolving to stay in control, never giving in, Hermione let the group snatch her from the floor. As they all jostled her about, Tom had one last instruction.

"Please don't dismember her. I'd like to see the entire being make it to its…annihilation later on. Now, away with you all, as I must go and find a few of our missing brethren."

And with a last, threatening look directly into her eyes, Tom apparated. Hermione turned her mind inward, where she could escape the string of curses that followed his exit. Pain was the least of her worries.

* * *

a/n: Yay…it's terrible, and I haven't revised it at all (the end is rather rushed, eh?)…but I hope you all enjoy this ONE ENORMOUS SCENE….yet another piece of what was originally all chapter 19. Enjoy, and review please….and I'll try to get the rest (now ch. 21) up UBER soon. OH...and why Avery suddenly speaks like a Canadian, I don't know. I'm sleepy... 

ºoº Magical Day to You All!

liZZie,

ever and always the badger on the run

PS...If you review, and you've got an opinion on 1) Who Hermione should end up with, or 2) Who should live in the Tom vs Draco argument, I'd really like to know. Not that it will change my mind or anything...I don't think...but I really want to hear a few arguments for either side. toodlez!


	21. A Secret and A Love

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter, though I was admittedly shocked that Snape got to be the sexy good guy I was rooting for all along! Thank goodness Rowling did that, since she killed my FRED! ºoº

* * *

Chapter 21

He wasn't exactly thrilled to see her, Ginny knew. Harry had been nervous enough having to ask her the dreaded, knee-bending "marriage" question. Now, as he stood before her, arms across his chest, his hair more wrecked than usual from rough sleep, Ginny realized his anxiety was only growing. They hadn't been alone together since he'd asked for her hand earlier, and this wasn't quite how she had imagined their next time alone together being. The worst part, though, was that she only had herself to blame. Well, herself and her busybody brother.

"_Ron's such an arse_."

_Earlier… _

Ron dashed up to wake his best friend immediately after catching Ginny with the diary. Flustered, the young man was nearly impossible to understand. Harry struggled to comprehend the words, as he was being shaken awake.

"_**HarrywakeupantakethisbeforeGingetsaholdofitagain**_!" The whisper was harsh, the words fairly unintelligible as they burst from Ron's lips in one, ragged breath.

"What, mate? And try it in English this time." Harry shifted up reluctantly, leaving his cozy spot under the blankets, and immediately regretted the move as a cool draft pushed through the doorway, raising goose bumps on his bare shoulders. He positioned himself on the edge of the bed, snatching his glasses from the nightstand so he could at least to pretend to focus on the jumpy redhead in front of him.

Ron heaved a sigh, trying to calm himself. "Here." He finally ordered, thrusting a worn, leather book at his friend. Harry gasped; Hermione's diary! "Ron! What in the name of Gryffindor were you THINKING, you crazy git?!? Dumbledore'll have a fit, mate!"

"Oh, come off it, Harry!" Ron's tone was insulted, bitter. "I didn't bloody read it. I caught Gin with it downstairs, and I know she read at least a few entries. I thought you'd rather I brought it to you than Dumbledore. The old man would keep Ginny out of everything, then. She'd be crushed."

His face was crimson with embarrassment and anger, and Harry felt instant remorse for his hasty assumption. "I'll take it, Ron. Calm down, though, or you'll wake the whole lot."

The restless man, who had begun pacing rather noisily, stopped and nodded, handing Harry the book eagerly. Harry knew Ron must have been horribly tempted to read those weathered pages. He could see it in his nervous friend's eyes. "_It's too much for him, though, no matter what he thinks_."

Harry had read the final entry, and he sincerely wished he hadn't. The desperation, the depression…he still couldn't get the words out of his mind. "_What about Ginny, then?_" His mind plagued him mercilessly at the thought. If Ginny had gotten to the last few entries, and she knew about her best friend's former anguish, Harry knew she'd be torturing herself all night.

"Ron?" His friend, now sitting on the opposite bed, staring blankly at the floor, glanced up. "Yeah?" His voice was rather lost, as if he'd had to summon it up from where it had been sleeping for centuries.

"I think you'd better send Ginny up here. I need to discuss something with her."

Harry had hoped to give Ginny an entire night to herself, to mull over his proposal. She'd left him no choice, though, and he steeled himself for the worst as Ron slipped out of the room and down the squeaky staircase.

"You could at least say something, Harry." The young woman was uneasy, and the messy-haired man's silence wasn't doing anything to help. The weighty gaze she'd been receiving from his two emerald eyes was certainly no comfort to her nerves.

"What do you want me to say, Ginny? That it's alright, even if you broke a serious rule? That I don't mind, even if you snuck around me to get at that silly book?"

His tone was accusatory, but underneath it, Ginny knew that what she was hearing was hurt. She'd betrayed him, in a way, and she cringed at the realization. Sensing pity in her gaze, Harry spoke before the sorrowful woman in front of him could start a string of apologies.

"I don't need an explanation, Gin. I'm sure you felt like it was worth it, to know what Hermione went through and all that rot. All I want to know is whether or not you got to the end of it."

Harry never sounded so removed or businesslike, and Ginny's curiosity was immediately piqued. There was something in the last entry? If Harry was that serious about it, it had to be extremely significant.

"Well, what if I did?" Ginny opted to remain ambiguous. If there was even the slightest chance of her getting a peak at it, she knew she couldn't claim either option. Unfortunately, the irked man in front of her was in no mood for clever ploys.

"Gin, I'm serious. Just tell me, okay?" Harry's glance was probing, apprehensive. He was worried about what she'd read, the young redhead concluded, not what she hadn't. Judging from the way it had him on edge, Ginny felt certain it had more to do with concern for her than fury at being manipulated. Deciding on an honest approach, she took a slow breath before answering.

"No, Harry. Ron got to me before I could get to the last few entries. Why?"

She hadn't relented, whatever her tone, and Harry could see she had no intention of dropping the subject any time soon. He stood up, the diary in hand, and made a motion for the door. "_That's all I needed to know_." If Ginny hadn't read it, she certainly didn't need to, and Harry was ready to walk out the door and hide the diary somewhere no one else might run across it.

Something stopped him, though, and he turned to take a look at Ginny as he lingered by the doorway. Her eyes were on him, curious as ever, and even though she seemed to sense the finality of his decision, it was apparent that she still had some hope in her.

Ginny's glance was both beseeching and wary. Harry found it pathetic that that was all it took to break him. "Gin, the last few entries aren't exactly a fun read." The young redhead nodded, her eyes bright and eager. Harry went back to sit beside her on the bed.

"But I'm going to break the rules, too. My instincts say you need to see the last one, at the very least. You're her friend, you should know a few things."

Ginny couldn't wipe the smile from her face, as Harry held out the worn, leather book in one hand. She gingerly latched onto it, feeling as though she was being handed some great treasure. "Oh, Harry, thank-you so-"

The messy haired young man was shaking his head, causing her to pause. "I don't want thanks, Gin. You've got the book, so read what you need to read. When you're finished, I'll be here."

Harry sat down then, reclining a bit to rest his back on the pillows and headboard. Ginny shifted onto the floor by the bed, wanting to make enough distance to keep her experience "intimate."

Cracking open the spine gently, the eager young woman flipped to the back of the many weathered pages. With only a few sheets left before the back cover, Ginny knew she was looking at the last inscription her friend had made before being…recycled.

With an appreciative glance at Harry, the man who loved her enough to understand it all, Ginny began what she hoped would shed some light on how to help her best friend.

There was no date on the page, and the inked lines were not up to Hermione's usual, somewhat manic neatness. Ginny felt certain that this last entry was a rushed, if not overly emotional, one.

_**I'm afraid to write for very long. He's so unstable right now, and if he found this, I'm convinced he'd be further agitated by something in these ramblings I've written. I've concluded that it would be best to hide this book, and I think I'll sneak it home to do it. But I must, for my own sanity, leave one last impression. After all, there's no one else I can turn to, and there are these remaining pages. Leaving them empty, when I feel like a release will prevent my imploding, seems a shame.**_

_**Tom, or "Voldemort" as his little cohorts refer to him, has finally let his rage go too far with me. He stormed in, and he saw that I'd packed a few things into cardboard boxes. I'd promised Demeter she could have a bit of the stuff I don't use so much, and the rest of the boxes were mostly my old books, which I meant to take home weeks ago. I just thought that, in the situation we might need to leave quickly, having only a few of the necessary possessions would hasten the process. And let's be honest: Tom's goings-on have become a bit eccentric, often dangerous and illegal. He won't let me know much, but I'm no dimwit: I'm quite positive that he has enemies of a darker sort by now.**_

_**When he walked in, he seemed tense, as per his usual mood as late. But when his eyes took in my boxes, the mere five of them, he was livid. He yelled, he cursed…and we fought. **_

_**"You're LEAVING me?!?" He'd asked, and I couldn't help but reply sarcastically. "Are you JOKING?"**_

_**It was the wrong retort, as I realized a bit too late. He called out a strange phrase…"Crucio," I believe. Never have I felt such pain as I did then. It was brief, as I know now, but that fire that coursed through me felt like it had been there for years, ere he called it off. And yet, this was nothing.**_

Ginny grimaced. The next page had tear stains, as well as a jagged line that ran lightly through the words as it traversed the length of the page: a path that Hermione's tears had traveled.

_**There was an interrogation. Tom commanded that I tell him who I was leaving him for. Naturally, I waved him off as being jealous too easily. "Tom, you KNOW you're the only man I've ever been with." Yes, I'd had many friends that were seemly young men, but whenever they tried to move beyond friendship, I ALWAYS refused.**_

_**Tom didn't believe me, as usual. "Don't lie to me, Hermione! You've packed most of your things, and I WILL know who it is you've opted to leave me for!!!" And with that, he raised his wand again. His eyes were blazing, an unearthly red.**_

_**I drew my wand, growing afraid for my life. His fury had left bruises and scars before, but the last time he was accusing me of INFIDELITY, it was much worse. I still shudder to think it…though it haunts me in my dreams: I couldn't let him rape me again. Oh, he would regret it, as he did last time, I'm sure. But, looking into the furious features that faced me, I knew it wouldn't be any time soon.**_

_**He shouted a curse, then. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" **_

_**I knew this one, mostly from my listening at keyholes when he had strange visitors. I couldn't counter quickly enough, my reflexes seemed disconnected. My thoughts, which I feared to be my last, were simple, urgent: "**__Please, Please…Don't end it this way__**." And I knew, somehow, that my prayer wasn't really for me. **_

_**In that instant, I lost all feeling. There was no pain, no sight; no worry. There was a light all around me, although I'm still uncertain as to how I sensed its presence. All I could think about was living, surviving. I had to make it for Tom, as his smiling face was all I could conjure from my memory. I wanted so desperately to see it again.**_

_**When it all finally faded to a familiar darkness, the deep black of sleep, I felt all my other senses returning as well. I was aching, like I'd fallen from a broom while soaring far up towards the clouds. My face was damp, but I knew the streaks weren't any crying of mine. I opened my eyes cautiously, and I glanced up. I was being held, cradled even, and my guardian had a pair of sad, dark green eyes. They were weeping, and I recognized the wetness on my cheeks as Tom's tears. He was murmuring something, through sobs, as he waved his wand over my body. The pain in my legs ceased, and I gathered the mumbled words were part of some healing charm. At last, as I was willing to admit being fully conscious, I allowed an audible sigh. The pain was lessening with every shallow breath I took, and I felt safe speaking.**_

_**"Boy, why are you crying?" My words to him, shaky as they left my lips, were the same I had spoken when first we met. The phrase from our youth seemed to make Tom's guilt overflow, and I felt the sob as a tremor in his arms. **_

_**"Oh, Hermione. I didn't mean…I just can't hold it back anymore and…I'm sorry. And you had to use those powers against **_**me**_**…" As he cried, I noticed the stain on his shirt, a brown-red streak from where the blood had dried. It was stuck to him partially, and I hated myself for the lengthy gash across his white torso s it peeped through the rip in the fabric. **_

_**I'd attacked him. Somehow, without even aiming or thinking, I'd wounded him. Granted, Tom had completely lost it, trying to beat me down, or even…kill me. But the thought never occurred to me that I might have to attack him to protect myself…and here he was, bleeding as he tried to revive me. My body seemed to have gone against my mind, or my heart, for that matter.**_

_**For in that moment, as I stared into his face, I knew as I never had before; I could never leave Tom, not matter what happened. It was inevitable, I realized, that our union would utterly destroy at least one of us. That didn't matter, even though I felt it must be me if it came to that. No matter what he did, no matter how he might fight against me, I had to stay with him. Tom was so desperate to keep me, to keep "us," that the chaos in him took over at the thought of being without.**_

_**As he sniffed back the tears from falling further, I made a feeble attempt to whisper, "I love you." I reached my arms up, wrapping them around his neck in order to hoist myself up. He needed to be consoled, pardoned in some way. Tom kept trying to apologize. I nodded once, to show my forgiveness, and then put my fingers to his lips to ebb the flow. I didn't need beautiful words and earnest speeches of sorrow: I loved him. **_

_**I know it isn't **_**my**_** Tom that hurts me, or anyone for that matter. No, whatever powers we have been "blessed" with, his are contaminating his soul. My abilities, too, are tainted. My "gift," as I've been working with it, seems to be intended for healing and balance. Thus, I find myself empathizing, trying to help the distressed. I've grown too soft in my heart, and my wit fails to govern my actions. Tom's innate powers are bent on destruction, control. His soul is chaotic and angry, in opposition with mine. I fear that his outbursts stem from his inability to contain something that's bent on containing him. **_

_**I love my Tom, and for his sake, I'll never leave him. He needs me, though his inner nature opposes mine, and to abandon him while he's being tortured like this would break me. After assuring him I would be alright, in spite of the marks and pains that remained, he let me explain the stupid boxes. His eyes, devoid of tears at last, teamed with guilt. I had to tell him of my resolve to remain with him, always. His smile at my promise was a sad one. **_

_**" I wish I could just let you go, Hermione." That was my Tom speaking, and I believed him completely. "I want to tell you to leave, to run away from me and never look back."**_

_**His chest rose and sank with an abrupt sigh. I felt the regret seeping into me, and I was moved to pity him further. "But," He broke the silence at last, "I cant. I'm selfish, I know, but I can't let you be anywhere without me." **_

_**And I kissed him; I kissed my enemy, and I kissed my love. I understood, and I urged in my kiss my reply; I couldn't be without him, either. And so we ended our feud, for this night anyhow. I told him I was going to take those boxes to Demeter, that I'd be back as soon as I could manage. He was fine with all of that, naturally, and so went to rest up in my room for a bit. **_

_**And now, I'm sitting here, letting my mind wander, pen on paper for the last time in this book, as I watch the sun rise. I've resolved to stay this course, and nothing will alter my mind. But, as no more may be said of it hereafter (I've spent all the pages of this darling journal), I think it prudent to say that I finally know myself, and I would never alter what has happened, or shall happen, for this feels like a most natural conclusion to a prologue of my life. I hope to make the rest something worth reading, even if it never makes it onto paper by my hand. **_

And, with an all too familiar signature, so ended a diary of a young woman who never made it beyond the beginning of her own story. It was poetic, Ginny realized, but not sad in the way she'd expected. "She loved him, Harry. Really loved him."

The surprise was evident in the voice of the beautiful woman beside him. "Yeah, she did. But, Ginny, I think it's sorta more important to see beyond some foolish choices she made. We now know how dangerous they are together; why a repetition of the past would be detrimental to them both."

Harry's hand reached to take the diary, still open on Ginny's lap, just as Ginny stood suddenly and let it hit the floor. As she spun to face him, Harry recognized an all-too-Weasley expression: anger, disappointment. "It isn't a foolish decision to get passionately involved with someone. To put them above all else, even the rest of the world, is a sweet idea!"

"But to the point of reckless abandon? Her own family warned her about him, Gin! Don't you think she owed them some sort of consideration? They loved her more than he could!" It was difficult staying cross enough to argue from his somewhat reclined position on the edge of the bed. Almost as if on impulse, Ginny backed slightly to yield enough space for Harry to stand and spar with her.

"But it's endearing, what she was willing to give up to help him. Can't you imagine loving someone so much you'd walk away from anyone and everything else just to make them happy?" Something in the eyes of the red-haired beauty before him caused Harry to hesitate. The fire feeding her argument was smoldering in the green orbs, but Harry's was already extinguished. He shifted closer, slowly, gauging her reaction as he tentatively lifted his hand to her shoulder.

"I'd never ask that of you, Gin." As he leaned in to wrap his other arm around the Weasley woman, Harry felt the rest of the tension slipping away from her stance. With a sigh, and a silent chuckle, Ginny allowed herself to be embraced. Her hair smelled of flowers, light and sweet, as Harry nuzzled her neck. This was home, when he had her in his arms, and for a moment he began to understand what Ginny saw in Hermione's former willingness to sacrifice herself. Harry couldn't imagine upsetting Ginny if given the power to do otherwise, and he felt quite sure he'd lay down his own life instantly if it meant more of this feeling, this moment of completion.

"But you see," Ginny began, drawing back only a little, as to look up into her fiancé's eyes, "You ask that of anyone once they love you, even if you never say it out loud. And I love you, Harry, so you'll have to accept that it's a strong emotion, and once it tethers you to another, there is no ending it."

And Harry kissed her, steeling himself to hold in his tears while his arms held fast to the woman he'd never known he could love so much. Until now, he realized, he'd accepted the probability of being alone, always, as any impending doom concerning Voldemort would make it necessary to avoid risking others' safety. He couldn't truly bear it now, though, the idea of going back to being happy on his own. The idea of going back to a time before Ginny was beyond comprehension.

As their mouths and tongues mingled, and blood flowed readily through their limbs and faces in response, there was a sense of understanding each other; of knowing what it meant to be in love, and to be loved, and how those two could be very different things. Ginny pulled back from Harry's eager mouth, and his eyes flew open in mild alarm. _Had he done something wrong_?

But the glowing expression on his partner's face reassured him quickly. "To answer that question you asked me earlier, Harry…I think you and I both know it's a definite yes." And without another word of ceremony or exclamation, the radiant young woman grasped both of Harry's hands from behind her neck and back, pulling them in front of her as she dragged him over to the bed. Lips met lips again, then, and parted only as sleep claimed them, leaving them quite comfortably nestled in each others' arms.  


* * *

A/N: Thank-you to all still reading/considering reading further…I've had a rough time with this fic, among other things, and I really haven't been motivated after attempting some reworking of the first ten chapters….I really am going to overhaul them a bit. I'm not a good author, but I'm much better now than when those were penned, so I'd like to reapproach them. It might not be until the summer that it's finished, but there ya go. I am also in sore need of a beta…or a beta who isn't super busy, as I love my current, and it's for her birthday that this is being posted. (Love you, Toner) Anyhoos, I actually have an amazing artist who's offered to do some illustrating for me (and when I say amazing, I MEAN freakishly amazing). Her first few sketches will knock you for a loop if she posts them on deviantart, and I'll be sure to post a link or something like it in the author's note for chappie 22.

OH! And much much more Tom, Mione, and even some Bellatrix to come shortly...so don't get all icked out with the Ginny/Harry nonsense. It happens. ^_^

Okay, am done, and THANKS for reading! ºoº


End file.
